Reason For Call
by 74days
Summary: Stiles has been working in his call-centre booth for nearly 5 years when he first hears the voice of the new IT guy. Surely anyone who sounds like that has got to be H.O.T Stiles takes it upon himself to get to know him better. The only problem is, he's got no idea what he looks like... - Prompted by Dyren: Derek and Stiles both work at a call centre together...
1. Chapter 1

"Good Morning, Tardis Industries, you're speaking to Stiles. How can I help you today?" He grinned. His face hurt.

'Say it with a Smile' was a poster, taped to the wall of every cubicle in the place, and if you didn't 'say it with a smile' you spoke to Jackson – a dick in an expensive suit and a habit of making everyone around him feel like crap. He didn't say **_anything_** with a smile. It bugged Stiles, because they went to school together, played on the same Lacrosse team, and now Jackson got paid the big bucks (if they paid big bucks in here, which he doubted) just because his dad was the friend of most of 'Upper Management'.

"I need the IT department." A haggard sounding man on the line said. "I tried turning it on and off again and nothing helped."

"Can I have your account details please?" Stiles asked, making sure to smile. "And the first three letters of your zip code?" He typed the answers into his screen and looked at the information there. "Is this Mr Parker?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"Ok, Mt Parker, I'm just going to pass the call over to someone who can help." Stiles said, voice overly happy. Around him, the sounds of people on calls was a dull hum, you could hear the sharp uplift at the end of every sentence because after a while you stopped with the normal smile and you just ended up like the Joker from Batman and probably just as crazy.

He used his pen to type in the switchboard number, knew if from memory now, because most people only called the main line for IT or customer support – better known as 'Drainers' because the people in complaints team left at the end of every day like their souls had been sucked out. They knew how to party though, drank like there was no tomorrow (and probably wished there wasn't).

"IT." A gruff voice on the other line said. Stiles got shivers. It was actually impossible to purposefully dial anyone specific in the IT team, all their calls were routed through the main switchboard and passed to whomever was available, but that didn't stop Stiles from sending up a silent prayer that he'd get... Hale. Hottie Hale. Who had started working 3 months, 4 days and (he glanced at the clock on his PC desktop) 4 hours ago.

"Sup!" Stiles grinned, really grinned, not that fake crap you've got to give over the phone or have Jackson chew you out. There was a difference. You might have to work 5 years and counting in a call centre to work it out... but it **_was_** different.

In the booth beside him, Erica leaned back in her chair, punched him on the shoulder without breaking her conversation with the person on the other side of her headset, and mouthed 'Hale?' at him. 5 years in a call centre **_really_** helped you pick up changes in someone's voice. He grinned and nodded. She fanned herself while reciting a telephone number from memory.

They had been sitting in the same seats for years, coming right out of high school because neither of them got into college. Erica didn't go because she'd gone through that 'bad girl' phase (get her on tequila and you could see how bad she could be) and Stiles because his ADHD made him bounce from subject to subject without ever focusing long enough to apply himself. His teachers had once said he was the smartest kid to ever fail.

"Stiles." Hale said. For a moment, Stiles felt like king of the world. Hottie Hale remembered his name! Then it crashed back down when he remembered that the number would show up on his call management screen, along with his name.

"I've got a guy on the line who tried to turn it on and off again." Stiles said, still grinning. He heard Hale sigh. He hated those calls, you just knew, because it actually transferred down the line like a wave of pissed off frustration. "Sorry dude."

"It's not your fault, Stiles." Hale said , causing the hairs on Stiles neck to stand on end, damn his name sounded good with that voice. "Pass him over."

"Roger that, Callum."

"It's not Callum, either." Hale replied, before the two clicks on the line told him that the call had been lifted. Stiles grabbed the book he'd bought and flipped it open. The 'Bumper Book of Boys Names' had been a gag gift from his dad when Stiles had once whined about never getting a good enough name for his WoW character. It was coming in useful now though.

"After 4 months, you're still on the C's?" Scott's voice said from behind him.

"Look, Nerdalot, I only get to talk to him like... once or twice a day. It's a big ass book." Stiles shot back. "And he's only been here 3 months, so give a guy a break."

"You could give us a page each." Erica supplied, before breaking into a manic smile and – without even thinking, rattled off the 'welcome speech'.

"And have you guess his name before me?" Stiles gasped. "**_Never_**!"

**_Duration: 2 mins_**

**_Name: Stilinski_**

**_Reason For Call: Software Error_**

* * *

Stiles lived in a crappy apartment a few miles from the house where he grew up. His dad, the local sheriff, would insist he went home every Sunday for dinner because his mom would have wanted them to stay together.

He never spoke about how he thought Stiles was meant for better things, because they had already had that conversation a million times, and Tardis Industries wasn't the worst place to work and the medical plan was great – plus, any job was worth it now. Scott's girlfriend Allison went to college, came home with her business degree and... worked at Tardis. Admittedly, she worked up in Accounts, but still, same pay cheque at the end of the week, just more student debt to pay.

Stiles used to share the apartment with Scott, but he'd moved out a couple of months ago when Allison had moved back. They lived in the apartment block over the street, if Stiles hung out of his window, he could make out what they were watching on TV.

When he got inside and locked the door behind him (habit, really, cops kid) he hauled off his backpack and kicked off his trainers, padding in his socks down the dark hallway.

The apartment was small, two rooms, a shared bathroom, kitchen and separate living room. Living with Scott had been great, because they'd known each other since... well... forever – same sandbox, same schools, same lacrosse team – but now Stiles was paying the rent for the place on his own.

The phone, hanging on the kitchen wall, was already ringing.

"Good Evening Ta-" He started, before remembering that he wasn't at work. "Uh, I mean, Hey." He finished. Most people living in the area worked at Tardis. There weren't a lot of other jobs going around.

"Stiles, it's Greenberg."

Damn. Stiles silently groaned. He really needed to get caller ID or something, so he knew when not to pick up the phone. "I'm really sorry, Stiles, man!" Greenburg was saying down the line, "But I really need you to save my ass!"

"Dude, I saved your ass last weekend!" Stiles sighed. "And the weekend before that too." He looked at his wall planner. It was empty, because this was his weekend. The weekend where he was gonna play WoW till he hallucinated, sorted out the guild bank and hit his conquest cap. He wasn't gonna spend his weekend working the graveyard shift for –

"Please, dude? Come on, it's not like you couldn't use the cash."

Stiles made a face down the phone. It was true. Night shift paid time and a half at weekends, because no one ever wanted to work them. The 'drainers' didn't work weekends (probably due to the high risk of them going postal and shooting the place up) and the IT guy who was supposed to work always kept his phone on 'busy'. Stiles had been the only one on the main floor last time. He answered 6 calls.

It wouldn't be so bad, but they monitored the internet, so Stiles couldn't even check his facebook or surf a little web.

"I worked your last two weekends, Greenberg!" Stiles shot back. "Both of them. You're going to lose your job!" Which was true. Kinda. He'd lose his job if he couldn't get anyone to cover for him.

"I'll owe you."

"You already owe me." Stiles said, but he could feel his resolve failing. The rent on the apartment wasn't a lot – if you had a flatmate to split the bills as well, which he didn't.

"I'll make sure you're on the VIP list, Stiles." Greenburg begged down the line, which was, of course, why he needed Stiles to cover **_another_** set of shifts for him, Greenberg was the bouncer at Jungle.

"I should already be on the VIP list." Stiles reminded him. "For last weekend." He knew he was going to end up doing the shifts, because, yeah – he needed the money and his Netflix subscription wasn't paying itself, but he was damn sure gonna make sure he got something for it. Greenberg wasn't good for a lot of things, but he was okay for a favour. "How about you get me a handful of tickets for the Angels and Demons party." Stiles said. It wasn't a question.

"Dude, they go for $40 a pop!"

"Yeah? At least 5, Greenberg, or you can call someone else."

The dejected sigh came over the phone. Stiles knew that Greenberg got complimentary tickets for the big events and sold them on. At least Stiles planned on **_using_** them. Erica loved Jungle, even if she wasn't gay and she'd appreciate a fancy dress event.

There was a long pause, followed by another sigh. "Fine. My shift starts at 9 tonight."

* * *

"Good Evening, Tardis Industries, you're speaking to Stiles, how can I help you?" Stiles grinned into his head set, eyes not leaving his note pad where he was doodling... everything. He had a stack of books under his desk, but he'd read a few pages of each and wasn't able to focus.

"I turned my laptop on and now it's just beeping constantly." A female voice said. Down the line Stiles could actually hear the high pitched 'ding ding ding ding'. It vibrated down his headset like a knife.

"Do you have your account number and first three digits of your zip code?" He asked, keeping his voice bright even with the insistent beeping. He nodded once he got the information.

"If you'd just hold one moment Miss Potts, I'll see if anyone in out IT team can take your call." He paused. "I should advise though, that at this time of night we do have a high number of calls and may not be able to get someone right away."

It was total bullshit, because no one had called in half an hour and even then it had been a wrong number, but Stiles knew that the IT guy on the graveyard shift was a total asshole who locked his phone up.

"Yeah, okay, whatever." The frazzled voice said.

Stiles hit the transfer button and dialled the IT switchboard without thinking. He was leaning back on his chair – wondering if the stories were true that they had cameras on the inside of the building just to see if you got up to anything fun, then fired you if you were. The line beeped once.

"Hale."

"Holy shit!" Stiles said, almost unbalancing and landing on his ass.

"Stiles." Hales voice didn't sound amused. He never sounded amused, really.

"I didn't think you worked weekends." Stiles said, knowing just how lame he sounded.

"I took an extra shift." He said, voice low and damn sexy. "Have you got a call for me?"

"What? Oh, yeah." Stiles grimaced. "Sounds like she's got a key stuck down or something." Stiles supplied. "Calvin." He added quickly.

"Right." Hale said. "Not Calvin either."

Two beeps and the call was picked up.

**_Duration: 3 mins_**

**_Name: Stilinski_**

**_Reason For Call: Audio Error req IT_**

* * *

Knowing that Hottie Hale was down in the IT basement, Stiles found himself praying for more calls. He wracked his mind trying to think of an excuse to dial down, but couldn't think of a single reason why he'd need IT.

Part of the issue, of course, is that no one was really sure what he looked like – what **_any_** of the IT team looked like. Their hours were split differently to the customer support team (where Stiles worked) so that they arrived either before or after the first shift. Not only that, but they had their own cafeteria down in the basement (someone went down once and said they had a proper coffee machine down there, which Stiles thought was seriously unfair) so none of them used the same lunchroom.

So no one saw them arrive, no one saw them leave, and no one had lunch with them. Stiles was starting to feel like they were oompa-loompas. It was the general consensus though, that Hale was a 'Hottie'. He sounded like a hottie, and Stiles thought he was pretty good at judging voices over the phone. Quiet, a little… distant… and a whole lot sexy. Dude could probably make a fortune on one of those dial-a-dick numbers, where you phoned up and some guy would tell you all the things he wanted to do you.

It was a running joke in the office that they were going to set up a sex line, because… well… it would have to be easier than listen to people bitch about their extended warranties, or the fact that their cheapo laptop wasn't playing the hi-res graphics they wanted, or that the internet wasn't working on their PC 'but it has built in wifi'.

He glared at his phone management screen. 17 minutes without a single call. He was going to kill Greenburg.

* * *

Derek Hale leaned back in his swivel chair and tried not to snap at the woman down the phone. "Okay, what is it doing now?" He asked, voice painfully even.

"It's still beeping!"

Yes, Derek could hear **_that_** pretty clearly down the line, because she'd put the phone on speaker and placed it right beside the laptop. "Is there a message on the screen?"

"No, nothing."

"Could you please open a notepad?"

There was a muffled sound down the line, and then… "A long line of 'n' is just showing up." She said.

Derek resisted the urge to smash his fist through his own computer screen. "If you look at the keyboard, is there anything trapped under the letter N?" He asked, wondering if he was going to get some kind of award for putting up with these idiot calls.

"OH!" The voice said, and the beeping stopped. "Awesome."

Then she hung up.

"You're welcome." He said to the dead line , writing up the call log.

**_Duration: 36 minutes._**

**_Name: Hale_**

**_Reason For Call: Stupidity._**

He looked at the submit button and sighed, deleting the last word.

**_Reason For Call: SKS, resulting in AF._**

* * *

"Good Evening, Tardis Industries, you're speaking to Stiles, how can I help you?"

"I called earlier." The woman on the line said. "I need to talk to the guy."

"Can I have your account number?" Stiles asked, typing it as she spoke. "Miss Potts, how can I help?"

The 'previous call history' tab open, Stiles took a read. He grinned. Sticky Key Syndrome, causing Audio Feedback. He'd been right. "I spoke to the guy last time, and he fixed it, but now it won't restart."

"I'll see if I can get a hold of someone in our IT department to take your call." He said, putting her on hold and punching in the number with a grin on his face.

"Hale." The rough voice said after a click.

"I've got your SKS from earlier back on the line, Caleb."

"Not Caleb." Hale muttered. "Half an hour on the line because she'd got a crumb under the letter N."

It was the most Hale had ever said over the phone, as far as Stiles could remember. "Maybe she's got a girl crush on you." He grinned down the line.

"Nothing more attractive than someone who needs to call an IT helpline because of a sticky keyboard."

"Dude, sometimes you can't help a little splash!"

"That's disgusting."

"I was talking about soda, get your head out of the gutter, Calvin." Stiles laughed, "Dirty mind you've got there, dude."

"**_Sure_**. Not Calvin either."

The double click told Stiles the call waiting had been picked up.

**_Duration: 2 mins_**

**_Name: Stilinski_**

**_Reason For Call: IT _**

* * *

"SKS has a thing for you," Stiles said as soon as the line got picked up. "She's back."

"What is it this time?"

"I dunno, Cameron." He grinned. "Sounds like…" His voice trailed off. "Sounds like nothing, actually. I think she just wants to hear your voice."

Hale sighed. "Not Cameron. You'd think she'd have something better to do on a Friday night."

"Dude, I **_do_** have something better to do on a Friday night, and I'm stuck here, covering for Greenburg."

A double click and the call dropped.

**_Duration: 2 mins_**

**_Name: Stilinski_**

**_Reason For Call: UST._**

* * *

Derek was glad that they weren't allowed drinks at their desks, because he read the call history and would have sprayed coffee all over his screen.

Unresolved Sexual Tension?

Jesus, Derek could get fired for that. He dialled the main line.

"Good Evening, Tar-"

"Edit the call history." He growled.

"Why?" Stiles was laughing down the line, and Derek wondered if he was ever serious.

"**_UST_**? Change it. Now."

"It's the reason she called!" Stiles snorted. "I'm not editing it. They pick up on edited comments, Campbell."

"Not my name." Derek shot back. He knew he should just say, 'My name is Derek,' but he thought that perhaps Stiles enjoyed going through his apparently never-ending list of names. "Change it."

"Unknown Software Termination is an often quoted reason for a call, Hale," Stiles said, sounding slightly amused. "What the hell do **_you_** think it means?"

Derek hit the terminate call button, dropping the line.

Fuck.

He could feel his ears getting red, even though there was no one around to see, and he let out a groan. Fuck. Of course Stiles wasn't flirting through the damn 'Call History' logs. Not with Derek.

Fuck.

He'd only taken the job at Tardis because there wasn't anything else to do with a Business Management degree, even with his electives in Computing. He was totally over qualified for this job, but where else was he supposed to work?

With Laura gone and Peter's medical bills going up every year, he needed something to pay the rent.

And so… maybe he'd hoped that the loud-mouthed Customer Support (not so affectionately called 'drones' by the IT team) guy was flirting with him a little. You know, with the name thing.

Hale didn't make friends easy, felt a little out of place everywhere he went, and now he'd gone and made an idiot of himself by over-reacting.

**_Duration: 2 mins_**

**_Name: Hale_**

**_Reason For Outbound Call: Line Test_**

* * *

Stiles used the intranet at work for two things, one, to check his hours for the upcoming month, and two, to see if there were any 'inter-departmental-job-opportunities'. There never were, because they got snapped up as soon as they were posted, but…

"Evening Supervisor." He read under his breath, like a prayer, eyes skimming over the details. There wasn't a lot of difference in the pay cheque but… he'd be a supervisor. He'd be_… middle management_.

For a moment his mind was filled with the nice house and the respect and sweet looking designer suits he was going to get, before he crashed back down to earth. Respect wasn't about to come his way, because he'd been working there for too long and everyone knew him, and the pay cheque wouldn't make any difference in the long run and the idea of him a suit made him cringe inwardly. He had to wear the shirt and slacks at Tardis, but only Jackson wore the suit and tie. If you worked weekends and you put a dollar into the donation jar, you got to wear your normal clothes. Most people did. It was for a good cause after all.

He hit 'Apply' and started filling in the extra details. Looked like it had just been posted too – so he should be one of the first ones to see it. Damn right. Supervisor Stiles.

That had a nice ring to it.

* * *

**_Hello!_**

**_A new Teen Wolf story for you as a way of saying '_****_Thanks'_****_ for sticking with me through my foray into Supernatural territory! _**

**_I'm going to take a few liberties with the employee code for this – I worked for an airline call-centre for a few years and although probably not the most interesting job in the world, I loved it. I'm not sure how it works in America, with the company packages as I think you guys get healthcare and stuff (We get free healthcare via the NHS so that would be pointless) so if you see something that makes your eyes bleed with Britishness… sorry. I'm from there, I can't help it. _**

**_I'm not sure how long this'll be, so you might be looking at a couple of chapters or a complete novel - you know what I'm like with planning ahead and plot._**

**_This was a prompt given via Tumblr user: _**dyren asked: Prompt: Derek and Stiles both work at a call centre together, and Derek is always being really shy. :D

**_I've been trying to squish out my Brit-speak but being British makes that hard. I will always use English (UK) to write and spell-check, so if you don't like your colours with a 'u' you're gonna have a bad time. _**

**_I do proof-read, but am still flying Beta free, so mistakes do happen. _**

**_I love reviews (most people do!) so please leave one to let me know what you think – it's the reviews that keep me motivated to write when plots go pear-shaped and characters decide to go do their own thing. _**

**_And it's just nice to see people saying hi!_**

**_Let me know what you think, either here, twitter (bmwiid) or Tumblr (bmwiid)!_**


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles sat back in his chair and wondered if 4 hours sleep was enough to keep him going through another nightshift. He'd had dinner with his dad (Chicken: Grilled. Veg: Steamed. Complaints about food: Minimal) and crashed on the sofa before he'd been woken by his phone alarm, screaming at him that he had an hour and a half to shower and get to work.

Now, sitting in his chair, looking blankly at the NO CALLS he'd taken in the last two hours, he was starting to drift off. Sunday nights were always dead. No one ever thought to call because they assumed that there would be no one there to answer the calls.

Stiles was **_bored_**. Seriously bored. He'd written up his call logs already, sent the email to HR with his logged hours to show he'd covered for Greenberg (and also because last time Greenberg forgot and Stiles ended up working a full weekend for free and Stiles had to threaten him with bodily hard if he didn't pay him back), so now he had nothing to do. At all.

The phone line beeped, the only warning you got when a new call came through.

"Good Evening Tardis Industries, you're speaking to Stiles, how can I help?" He rattled off, not even bothering to sit up at his desk properly, manic smile on his face.

"I called last night about my laptop." A female voice said, sounding frazzled.

"Ah, Miss Potts, looks like you're having a few glitches." Stiles said, losing the manic smile and slipping without thinking into '_concerned but professional_' because... well... after 5 years of sitting at this same desk, he was the king of phone voices.

"I know, right?" The woman groaned. "I'm never connecting to an unknown wifi again."

"If you give me your account information, I'll see if there is anyone in IT who can take your call." He said, '_amused but businesslike_'.

"Thanks!"

He clicked hold and dialled down to the basement. One click and:

"Hale."

"Carl, your favourite SKS is on the phone again."

"Are you serious?" The gruff voice on the other end of the line said. "How many issues can one laptop have before you just get a new one?" He seemed to pause. "It's not Carl either."

"Carlos? Cartlon?" Stiles shot back, instantly.

"No." Double click, the call waiting was picked up.

**_Duration: 2 mins_**

**_Name: Stilinski_**

**_Reason For Call: OGSI_**

* * *

Derek read the notes as soon as they were up – Ongoing Software Issue.

When he started, the other guys in IT had told him that the Drones on the main call lines had their own shorthand for calls – gave him a printed out sheet that had hundreds of codes and information. The call log could only be 150 characters long, so you really needed to condense an issue down. Miss Potts had called 5 times in two days, and her Call Log was starting to look like a WW2 code breakers wet dream.

The list didn't have everything on it, but the most common ones. He'd taken the list home last night and read it carefully. There were handwritten notes on the photocopied sheet, and from what he could see, some people used certain codes for different things.

OGSI (with variants handwritten in a spider scrawl along the side) was the first one that Derek had learned because the guys would send him all the long, complicated problems when he'd first started. He assumed it was some kind of hazing at first, then he realised that they were just lazy assholes who didn't want to deal with a long call.

A long call like this one.

"I swear to God, this computer is a piece of crap." Miss Potts was complaining into his ear as he wirelessly connected to her system.

He'd been on the phone for nearly an hour, trying to talk her through some simple diagnosis, but he'd reached a dead end – and was now taking matters into his own hands.

"I can see the cursor move."

"That's me from this end." He replied, trying to keep his voice calm. He hated this job. He clicked around, typing and running a few tests, till he found out what the issue was. Porn.

It was **_always_**porn.

**_Duration: 1 hour 13 mins_**

**_Name: Hale_**

**_Reason For Call: DPV_**

* * *

Stiles laughed out loud when he read over the call logs. Damn Porno Virus. Technically, Hale should have used 'UOSV' (Unknown Origin Software Virus) which was what management would have told him to use, but he'd obviously got the Drones Handbook and was using their codes. Sweet. Stiles had made half of those codes up himself, he could work with this...

* * *

Derek eased his apartment door shut and sent up a silent prayer that the little noises of him moving about wouldn't wake the newborn twins next door. Their mom, a single parent who worked two jobs and slept about as much as Derek, had actually apologised to him when he moved in. The walls were thin, and sound travelled. He could hear her soothing them to sleep, singing 'Hey Jude' softly. He could hear when one of them woke up, that sleepy cry that would soon develop into a full blown scream.

He just really wanted to sleep before his swing shift started.

He should never have taken the weekend slot, but he needed the extra cash. Laura's... retreat... cost him all his savings and there was still another 3 months to go before she was allowed to leave, and with the cushion of his savings gone, he was feeling pretty exposed. He needed all the money he could get.

Which was why he'd had an interview last Friday for the bar keeping job at the bar, Jungle, a few miles away. He would be able to walk there and back unless the weather was shitty, so he'd save on gas – always a good thing.

He was hoping that he'd come home to a message telling him either way if he'd got the job or not. He had kinda thought he'd got it, he knew what he looked like and he'd made sure to wear the white vest that showed off his arms. He'd been hit on enough by both sexes to know where his strengths were.

Shame that his sparkling personality let him down after that.

He figured some people should just cut him a break on that, because he was doing okay for all the shit that he'd gone through. He'd finished High School, gone to an okay college, got a good degree (useless in this job market, but a good one nonetheless) and held down a job.

He'd like to think his parents would have been proud of him. Proud of Laura, too, for finally getting the help that she needed. He figured they'd maybe understand her better, saw how she hid her pain from a kid brother who was now, as far as anyone cared, her responsibility.

No wonder she'd cracked.

He couldn't think about Laura, not when he was cranky and tired, feeling a bit low because he'd been waiting for a call about a job that looked like it wasn't gonna happen.

Then he remembered that he'd be back at work tomorrow and maybe Stiles would have run out of 'C' names and move onto the 'D' ones, and when he did... Well... he hadn't thought that far ahead. He kicked off his shoes and slacks – he still didn't feel comfortable in 'casual weekends' at work – and fell face first on the single bed that had been there when he moved in.

* * *

Stiles slept through his alarm, which was something he **_never_**did.

He launched his body out of bed with the speed of_ 'Is that the fucking time?!'_ which he was sure was some kind of freakish survival of the fittest type move, and almost got to his knees when he remembered that his dad had brought his work clothes over – pressed and everything.

"Thank you, father of mine!" He called out to the empty room as he dove into the shower and didn't even wait for the water to warm up.

Skipping breakfast was something he did most mornings, but of course on the one day he didn't have time to eat, he was starving.

"I am never covering for you again." He muttered under his breath as he ran down the stairs of the apartment block. "Never again."

He was half way to work when Scott started calling.

"Dude, we're in the staffroom, where the hell are you?"

"I'm running late." Stiles said, loud enough so his mobile phone's hands free would pick it up as he drove.

"Aw, dude!" Scott moaned. "I told you not to log onto WoW in the morning, you like, lose all track of time. How far away are you?"

"10 minutes!"

"Hurry up, Jackson's pissed about something. Looks like someone crapped in his lucky charms or something."

Stiles groaned, hitting the end call button and driving just a little too fast. He'd take the ticket (if he got one, because being the son of the sheriff was good for something at least) if it meant he wasn't going to have to deal with a pissed off Jackson, who liked to **_share_** his moods.

* * *

The double click was an internal call, and Stiles wasn't expecting it.

"Uh, hi?" He said, wondering what he'd done wrong. No one ever got an internal call, because they showed up on your call logs, and shit like that was always flagged with Jackson.

"Stilinski, Stiles?" An unamused voice said, and his call screen was still just flashing 'internal' rather than a department ID.

"Yes, that's me."

"Could you please come to room 501. Bring your call logs and times sheets."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Yes, of course." He said, voice as calm as he could manage.

**_Duration: 1 min_**

**_Name: Stilinski_**

**_Reason For Call: Internal, Room 501_**

* * *

Stiles had never been fired before. He'd left a few jobs before, but he'd never been **_fired_**. He'd printed out his call logs (Had he not been picking up as many calls as anyone else? Scott almost always had his number locked, how was that not being flagged?) and his time sheets (He was never late. Never sick. He covered for loads of people!) under the worried eyes of his friends.

The fifth floor was HR. Nothing good ever came from HR. They told you about your new tax codes which lowered your month end pay, or how you're holiday entitlement was less this year cause of some bullshit change, or they fired you.

He'd made it in to work in time, hell, he'd even had time to grab the slice of toast that Scott hadn't eaten before the first buzzer had gone.

Stiles was inches away from panicking in the elevator, with its stupid 'calming' music that was grating on his nerves.

Was it the Drone Codes? Fuck. He'd been using his own codes for so long that everyone else used them now too. Did HR think that they should go back to longhand? Fuck.

Fuck.

What had he done?

When the metal doors opened, Stiles was seriously questioning if he should just punch the ground floor and leave, save this faceless man on the phone the time it was going to take to fire him.

His feet felt like they were made of lead. He was glad he'd pressed the black suit pants and white shirt today, so he looked slightly more presentable. He stepped into the hallway. They had carpet up here, instead of the linoleum flooring that was everywhere on his floor. Not that it was important, but he noticed. He was shaking, eyes fixating on everything at once. They had those horrible prints that looked like they'd been mass produced to give the place a 'welcoming' feel, pale watercolour leaves in vases that looked like they had been left in direct sun and had gotten bleached. Maybe they'd been bought like that.

He knocked on the door, first on the left, with a hand that was tight and shaking, mind trying to do too many things at once.

"Enter."

Stiles pushed open the door and walked in.

**_Oh._**

Fuck.

* * *

"Hale."

"Got some chick on the phone, notes say she's spoken to you before. SKS or whatever." A female voice was saying, and Derek rolled his eyes. He knew that not everyone was good with computers, but this woman was pushing the limits. "It's Erica."

"Her name is Potts."

"No, idiot.**_ I'm_** Erica."

"Right."

"I sit beside Stiles."

"Okay."

"He's been hauled upstairs." She said, sounding... gossipy. Derek wasn't sure if he was allowed to start pressing for more information. It wasnt like they were friends or anything. He hoped it wasn't too bad. HR were for all kinds of things, right?

"Why?"

"No one knows. He was working last night, and these logs say you were too. Anything happen?"

"No."

"Jesus, talkative much." She burst out. "Look, Stiles has never been called up before, so something must have happened." She was obviously waiting for Derek to say something, because after a few seconds she let out a sharp exhale. "Okay, so if you don't want to tell me, fine. Take the call."

And then she was gone.

Fuck.

"Hale here." He said, and was rewarded with another hour long call from Miss Potts and her Laptop of Doom.

**_Duration: 1 hour, 17mins_**

**_Name: Hale_**

**_Reason For Call: System Error. _**

* * *

**_Hi guys!_**

**_I don't think I've ever had so many reviews on a new story in my life – I woke up to so many notifications I was almost late for work myself reading them! So awesome. I feel awesome!_**

**_Today was actually not super great. We've had pretty bad weather here and rolling black-outs, so my chapter is a little shorter than normal (and this is the fourth 'autosaved' version!) because I just couldn't keep my PC alive long enough to get into the groove of writing. _**

**_Snow is awesome. Sometimes. Not today. Welcome to Scotland._**

**_So many familiar faces (avatars? Names?) popping up that I just want to wave to you all and hug you all and just generally be super happy to see you all. Thanks for reading, reviewing and following!_**

**_So..._**

**_Yeah. _**

**_Something is up with Stiles at work._**

**_Something is not so awesome with Laura (but she is alive!)_**

**_(Oh, and in season 6 of Supernatural, Sammy has no soul and Dean has just found out and punched the shit out of his face. It was equal parts awesome and 'noooooooo sammmmmy'. And Cas. There was Cas. I love Cas. Did I mention that before?)_**

**_Right, sorry. Going._**

**_Love you all. _**


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles sat on the only free chair in the office, across a desk from three well-dressed managers. He knew who they were, of course.

When you walked into Tardis, right at the door, there were framed photographs of smiling people in suits. The little brass-effect panels told you who they were.

The overweight man in the bow tie (bow ties were not cool if you couldn't see them for chins) was Mr Frederic Pontjoy, Human Resources Manager. He had a comb over and a sheen of sweat forming on his forehead.

The stunning (and she was stunning) woman in the navy and grey pinstripe jacket was Lisa Fowler, headhunted to Tardis a year ago and the Finance Executive.

The older, frail looking man was James Tardis. Owner of Tardis Industries. The Boss of Bosses.

"Stilinski?" Lisa Fowler said, looking at the paperwork in front of her, what looked like his employee file open and spilling its guts to the world.

"Yes." Stiles nodded, "Good Morning." He added, keeping his tone conversational. No one smiled, although James Tardis nodded his head slightly, so old that it looked a little like he was about to reduce to ashes where he sat.

"You applied for the position of Evening Supervisor," Fowler continued. "On Friday night."

"I did, yes." He said, hoping that his voice sounded clear and confident. He's not expected to hear anything for ages, and he'd not had any time to prepare. He could feel the palms of his hands get sweaty as he put his paperwork on the desk in front of him.

"As you know," Fowler started, and Stiles knew the sound of a 'company policy' voice, "Here at Tardis Industries we have a long standing tradition of rewarding hard work and time served with internal growth." Stiles wondered if anyone else knew that, because he'd never heard of a Droner getting a promotion before, "In order to ensure that our employees have a varied and rewarding experience within their roles." She looked at him expectantly.

"Of course." He nodded, trying to look like this was something everyone knew. Jesus, he was sitting with James Tardis. His Bosses Boss. His bosses, bosses boss. **_The_** Boss. Oh, fuck.

"We have looked over your application and would like to talk to you about your role here, within the Tardis family."

* * *

Stiles wasn't the only Droner that Derek talked to through the day, although Stiles was the only one that he tended to remember. He stuck out in the sea of faceless voices like a beacon. He didn't realise just how much he was looking forward to hearing Stiles voice when a call came through until he was faced with the disappointment of it being someone else.

Actual disappointment.

"Hale."

"It's Scott."

"Okay," He said, wondering if he was supposed to remember all these people's names. Seriously, there was like a million of them, and they all sounded the same. Slightly manic, overlaid with boredom.

"Stiles best friend."

"Right." Derek nodded. Erica was the strangely aggressive girl and Scott was the slightly stoned sounding guy.

"He's not back yet." He sounded slightly… annoyed. Like he was mad at Derek for something. He looked at the clock on his screen and frowned. If Erica called down and got him just before 10am, that would mean that Stiles had been up at HR for **_hours_**. "Are you sure nothing happened over the weekend?" Scott asked, "Like, did he mention like, downloading something on his PC, or like… a customer complaint or something?"

"No." Derek said, shaking his head before remembering that Scott couldn't see that.

"Dude, really?" Scott groaned down the phone, "Like, that's all you have?"

"Sorry."

"Guy on the phone with CSI." Scott grumbled, hanging up.

**_Duration: 15 mins_**

**_Name: Hale_**

**_Reason For Call: Corrupt Software Issue_**.

* * *

Stiles would be bored if he wasn't so stressed out. He'd been filling out forms, doing competency tests and now he was sitting back in front of Fowler, who was managing to look at him like he was a bug to be squished as she looked over the printouts.

"You developed a shorthand code that is now widely used in call logs?" She questioned, as James Tardis looked at him with milky eyes.

"Yes." Stiles nodded. He'd been doing a lot of nodding, his neck hurt. "Because the call logs are an important part of customer service," He was proud of that wording, "I felt that the more information we could fit on the cell the better, and developed a short hand code." He hoped that sounded like something they would like. It hadn't been a conscious decision at the time, he'd just started shortening his words. Now, looking back, he hoped he'd not made a serious error.

"HDPDI?" She read from his call logs.

"Hardware power-down issue." He said instantly. "An IT issue."

"OG!," she actually said 'exclamation point' which he found weird. "UE?"

"On-going Unknown Error." He paused, not mentioning that the '!' was there to show others that the caller was being a total dick on the phone. If you got a call where the first thing you saw was a '!' you knew that you were going to have a nightmare on your hands.

"I see." She said, handing over the papers to Pontjoy who was properly sweating now, patches on his shirt making Stiles feel seriously uncomfortable. "You applied for a similar position a few months after you joined us here." She said, looking at a new sheet of papers that Stiles hadn't seen before.

"I did, yes," He agreed. He'd applied because he was new, and when he'd told people he'd put in, they laughed. A Droner wasn't going to get promoted.

"And yet you haven't applied since then."

Stiles mind kicked up a gear as he wracked his brains for something to say that didn't sound inane. "I believed that I… needed to learn more about Tardis, and the way the company works before… I would be in a position to lead others." He stumbled. "I wanted to make sure I knew as much as possible before applying again so that I wouldn't waste anyone's time." He hoped that sounded less like a bullshit answer (which was what it was) and more like an experienced, capable individual.

He already felt like he was wasting time here, like he was being made an example of. _Look_, he could hear them saying, _we interviewed someone within the company! You could have this job_! But in reality he was probably just a check box they needed to mark off before getting in someone who was better qualified. Someone new.

"I see." She nodded, not even pretending to 'see' what he was saying. "You've been here for 5 years and according to this you have never taken a day of illness?"

Wasn't true. He'd been sick plenty, but they docked your wages if you were off and Stiles liked money. He'd been sick, he'd just come into work. "That is correct." He said. "I'd feel like I was letting my team down if I took a sick day." He said. That sounded… responsible. Kinda.

"You cover a lot of additional shifts."

"I do." He nodded. "I think it is important to make sure people know they can rely on me should something come up."

"I see."

God, it had been a **_long_** fucking day.

* * *

Derek shut the door to his apartment and could already hear the twins screaming at the top of their lungs. He felt really sorry for the girl next door, because from what he could see, she was doing her best with what she got, and it didn't look like she got a lot of help from her family. In fact, Derek couldn't remember ever seeing her with anyone since he'd moved in. Her boys, Michael and Lucian, were cute enough, if you liked kids.

He picked up the phone and dialled his voicemail.

"You have one new message and no saved messages." The computerised female voice said. "New message," There was a pause, and then the line cut in. "Hi, Derek – this is Lydia Martin from Jungle." Her voice was harassed and he could hear noises in the background. "Job is yours if you want it, give me a call back on," She rattled off a number, which he already knew from calling about the job. "As soon as you can. We'd like to get you in this week for training before the weekend." She covered the mouthpiece, but he could still hear her muffled voice chewing someone called Greenberg out for putting the glitter cannons too near the bar. "Yeah, so call asap." She finished, before hanging up.

Derek replayed the message twice before it really sunk in. He dialled back immediately.

"Jungle, the place where you get a little wild!" An almost familiar voice said over the line.

"I'm looking for Lydia Martin." Derek said, wondering if he'd spoken to the person before. He worked on the phone so it was probably likely.

"You an every other guy in town, buddy." The voice said. Derek found himself gritting his teeth.

"She called me earlier today about a job."

"Ah, sure, hang on."

Derek rolled his eyes at the sudden change in tone. Yeah, whoever it was on the phone was one of those douchy guys with a perma-tan and over-gelled hair. He could just tell.

"Lydia speaking."

"Hi, Miss Martin, I'm Derek-"

"Call me Lydia, everyone does." Her voice was sharp and alert. Derek got the feeling that she was way to good for the job she was doing. "Can you come in tonight, Derek, I'd like to start getting the paperwork done before the weekend so we can get you earning some money." She paused. "If you still want the job."

"Yeah." He nodded. "I still want the job."

"Good." Her voice was confident and clear as she rattled off the address (which he remembered from his interview) and told him to be there for 7, sharp.

When he hung up the phone, he let out a pleased huff of air. Thank God, he really needed a break – and this was it. He wouldn't need to worry about money if he had a second income. All he needed to worry about was not falling asleep at his desk during the day. With the calls he took, it was a possibility.

He had just over an hour to shower and change, grab something to eat and get there.

* * *

Stiles fell through his door with a fumbled curse as the paperwork he'd been carrying flew out of his hands and down the small hallway.

"Fuckit!" He groaned, kicking the door shut behind him and scooping up the paper and files. There was a lot he needed to get through before tomorrow. For the second round of tests and interviews.

He'd been away from his desk all day, the mobile phone in his pocket telling him he had four missed calls and 24 text messages. He'd simply grabbed his stuff and piled it into the old Jeep he should really replace before it fell apart. He should have replaced it after high school. Now it was officially an eyesore. He flipped the light switch on and kicked off his shoes as he walked, trying to read through some of the paperwork. By the time he made it to the small kitchen, the phone was ringing, and he scooped it up under his ear as he dumped the files onto the faded Formica table.

"Sup, bro?" He called out, knowing that it was Scott. Only Scott would have called the moment his lights went on.

"I was watching for you getting home, dude!" Scott said, "I saw the lights go on. What the hell happened today dude? Did you get fired?"

Stiles could hear Allison in the background telling Scott to be more sensitive just in case he had been fired, and grinned.

"Nah, Scotty-boy," He laughed. "I am totally not fired. I got an interview. For supervisor."

The 'WHAT?' down the line was so loud that it crackled in his ear, reminding him to get a new phone too – Jesus, he'd not even got the job yet and he was planning to get a new car and a new phone. It wasn't even like it was a decent pay boost.

"Dude!" Scott said, still yelling but not enough to deafen his neighbours. "Dude! You're getting promoted?"

"I don't know yet." Stiles said, trying not to get infected with Scott and his puppy-dog excitement. "I've got some reading and stuff here, and then I've got another day of tests and interviews and stuff." He paused. "James Tardis was there."

"No fucking way!" Scott burst out again. "Dude, I like, thought he had died or something."

"Well, he looked like he'd risen from the dead, I'm telling you." Stiles admitted. "Seriously, I thought he'd cough mothballs up or something. And that Lisa Folwer too."

"Oh, Allison says she's a bitch." Scott said, and he could hear Allison in the background ask 'Are you talking about Folwer?' before the phone was yanked out of Scott's hand.

"Hey Stiles." She said, "Seriously, she's a total bitch, I work on her floor and she thinks she's the best thing around." Because Allison worked in accounts, and her degree, she got a lot of stuff heaped on her desk that might not be technically her job. She'd sit on the sofa with a glass of wine while Scott and him played CoD and bitch about how she really needed to find somewhere else. Stiles agreed, he still couldn't believe that after everything she did at College she still ended up in the same piece of crap job as them.

"Don't trust her as far as you could throw her, I'm telling you." She added, before Scott managed to get the phone back.

"Why didn't you tell me you applied for a new job?" He asked, sounding hurt.

"I totally forgot! I was covering for Greenberg,"

"Again." His best friend cut in.

"Again, yeah, and I saw it and I thought… what the hell, right?" He paused. "I don't think I'll get it, Dude, I mean it's like… there is so much paperwork and tests. You know what I'm like, man. I'm gonna fuck this up somehow."

"Don't be like that! You are the smartest guy I know." He paused. "Like, you totally are!"

"Thanks, Scott."

"Are you gonna tell your dad?"

"No. I'm gonna wait… and see, you know? If I get it or not."

"Cool! Dude, this is awesome." There was a few seconds and then, "So no xbox tonight?"

The last thing he heard was Allison yelling at him that Stiles needed to prepare before the line went dead. Yeah, Allison was pretty cool.

* * *

Lydia Martin, Owner of Jungle, was probably the most intimidating woman Derek had ever met. She was so tiny he felt like she could fit into his pocket, but she took up the whole room when she walked in, red curls bouncing on her shoulders.

She didn't look like she was old enough to run a place like this, which had been around before Derek and Laura had left, but as far as he could make out, she'd waltzed into town, snapped her fingers, and made herself an overnight sensation.

Jungle was the most popular club within 50 miles, despite being a 'gay bar' and she was planning on opening another. From what Derek could tell, there was Jungle in Beacon Hills, a strip club in Bakersfield called 'Harpy' and the 'Club Noir' in Fresno – and Lydia Martin owned them all.

"So your job is pretty basic. You work behind the bar, you serve the drinks and you clean up at the end of your shift. Tips are put into this jar, split at the end of the week, and if you don't like the way I run this place – the door is over there." She paused, spinning around to look at him, hair fanning out and bouncing back into place. "I know you're working at Tardis, so your shifts will be Friday night, Saturday and Sunday. We're closed on Mondays, for clean-up and stock."

She'd told him all this before, at his interview, but Derek let her go over it again, because interrupting her just didn't seem like an option.

"So," She said, pointing to the bar. "The cocktail list is pinned to the back of the bar. I expect you to know the most popular ones by the end of the week. Breakages are expected within your first three days, after that, you smash a bottle, you buy the bottle. Any questions?"

"Nope."

"Good. Now, let me show you how we process payments."

Derek had worked in a bar before, so he wasn't too fazed by the automated drinks machines and mixing cocktails. It looked like Lydia had replaced the payment system recently, it was state of the art and very user friendly, Derek had it figured out in no time. He also found out a few things. She was younger than him by quite a few years, something of a genius when it came to money, had a boyfriend called Jackson – the way she talked about him was between 'one true love' and 'some douchebag she couldn't shake off'- and she expected him to pull good tips.

"You've got that whole, rough and broody look, going on." She said, waving a hand in the general direction of his face. "In a place like this, you'll make a fortune. And if you ever need some extra cash, I could get you over to 'Harpie' on ladies night."

"I'm not a dancer."

"You don't need to dance." She grinned. "Trust me, you'd just need to walk about pulling of items of clothing and you'd make a lot of horny women verrrry happy." She rolled her r's seductively. "Just so you know, it's an option." She paused, and looked him over. He was starting to feel like a slab of meat, and he didn't like it. "Oh, don't look at me like that." She laughed. "You're going to have to get used to people checking you out."

"Not my employer."

"Derek Hale, let me tell you one thing right now, I am not about to lose everything I have built over a sexual harassment suit. You don't need to get your panties in a twist over **_me_**."

For some reason, Derek actually believed her.

* * *

**_It's so very nearly Friday that I can taste it on my lips._**

**_So many of you called Stiles and his possible promotion, it was like getting reviews from Sherlock._**

**_It was also nice to see everyone saying where they were from! Looks like people all over the world too – I suddenly feel a little more cosmopolitan just by knowing you :)_**

**_No Sterek interaction on this chapter, so expect more of it tomorrow – I kinda missed their banter, and so did Derek, by the looks of things. ;)_**

**_(in other news, Souless Sammy is a bit of a prick, Cas thinks he left his soul in the pit – does anyone ever mention Adam? – and Dean is still fucking HOT AS BAWS)_**

**_Love you!_**


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles had an office.

Like, a **_real_** office. Okay, so he didn't have any windows, and the desk took up most of the space, but he had an office.

Supervisor Stiles. That had a nice ring to it.

He was offered the job on Tuesday, and moved into his new office on Wednesday and now it was Thursday and he had never been so bored in his life. He had kind of expected that the night shift supervisor had like, **_mad_** work to do – after all, he'd never seen anyone look bored, if you walked past Jacksons (larger, with a window) office, he was always typing away like mad.

Stiles had done the paperwork. Stiles had moved his new office about so that he didn't have his back to the door, and even reviewed all the call logs for the week. There was nothing else to do.

Only 15 people worked the night shift, Stiles knew most of them from school, or shift swapping, but they weren't Scott and Erica. Who were threatening to throw him an awesome 'Promotion' party, despite it being two weeks till payday.

His desk phone rang, he had a desk phone rather than a headset, talk about moving up in the world, and he picked it up with a grin.

"Supervisor."

"I've got a guy on the phone who wants to talk to a manager." A male voice growled over the line.

"Carson!" Stiles grinned widely. "You can't tell me that your sparkling personality isn't winning people over."

"Not Carson, and I thought I dialled a supervisor."

"Do I detect a hint of humour there?" Stiles said, trying not to sound like a total idiot on the line. "Because I'm pretty sure you didn't just sass your superior, Carter."

"My name isn't Carter." Hale said, "Are you going to take this call or not, **_Boss_**?"

"Sarcasm will get you nowhere in life, Cedrick."

"Not Cedrick either." Hale grumbled, although Stiles was 110% positive that he was maybe smiling. A click came through, and Stiles spent the next hour trying to placate an irate customer who didn't think that taking apart his laptop to 'see what the problem was' invalidated his warrantee.

**_Duration: 1 hour 12mins_**

**_Name: Spvr. Stilinski_**

**_Reason For Call: !WI-OG-P2CR-t4t008_**

* * *

Derek had to pull out the printed sheet to work out what the hell that code meant, ignoring the fact that he was stalking some customers file just too see what Stiles had written. He knew enough that the '!' was an irate customer, Warranty Issue – OnGoing – Passed to Customer Relations… but the rest was meaningless.

"Hey, what does 'Tee four Tee' mean?"

"Thanks for that." Someone said, probably Boyd, for behind him. "Droner being sarcastic in the notes, they normally put an extension after it, calling you out."

Derek's eyes flickered to his phone management log, and sure enough, he was 008. "Less than?"

"Aww, it means they're just pulling each other's chains, joking around." Boyd said, without looking up from his book. "If it's 'less than' they're being smart. If its 'more than' watch yourself, their being serious and they've got each other's backs up there." He paused. "Why?"

"Notes in this file are all over the place."

"Yeah, they try to cram it all into on line." Boyd leaned back in his chair. "It's not too bad, you know, there's a chick up there, Erica? She flirts in her tags sometimes."

Derek looked over at Boyd, who was working on getting his History degree through a correspondence course, and frowned. "How the hell do you **_flirt_** in the call logs?"

Boyd laughed. "She flirts on the phone too, you just need to read between the lines."

"I think I've spoken to her." Derek said, trying to remember. Wasn't she Stiles friend? The one who blamed him for Stiles getting called up to HR? At least he didn't need to worry now, because Stiles hadn't been fired, he'd been **_promoted_**.

Derek belatedly wondered if he should have said congratulations.

Then he wondered if Stiles was maybe flirting with him in the tags. Which was stupid, because he wouldn't know if Derek was even checking them.

"Yeah, she's hot as hell too." Boyd grinned. "Seriously, like… **_wow_**."

"You've seen her?"

"Met her at Jungle a couple of weeks ago." Boyd shrugged. "I was there for some party, and it's like… the only place to go around here… and she was working it like she needed rent money." Boyd laughed. "With her boy Stiles."

"Stiles goes to Jungle?" Derek asked, wondering now if 'her boy Stiles' was her **_boyfriend_** Stiles.

"Yeah, it's totally his scene."

"I got a job there, at the bar."

"Sweet. If you get tickets, dude, don't forget who your friends are."

Derek shrugged and let Boyd go back to his book, highlighting passages and taking notes. It took him longer than he'd like to admit to realise that Boyd had just called him a friend.

* * *

"So I might have told Paul that I'd cover his weekend shift." Stiles said, once he'd showered and gotten ready for bed. Luckily he didn't find sleeping through the day a problem, and by the time Allison was opening the drapes across the road, Stiles was ready for bed.

"What?" Scott yelled, voice still loaded with sleep. "Come on, dude! We've not hung out at all in like… forever."

"He's got a wedding, his ex, you know, the one with all the cats? Well she needed a date for her cousin's wedding and asked him."

"Did he say yeah?" Scott laughed. "What a walkover, seriously, he's so whipped."

"I know, right? So I couldn't cock-block him, man."

"We were gonna go to Jungle."

"Don't take any shit from Greenberg, okay, he knows us – and if he's not put me on the VIP list, you tell him I'll rip him a new hole."

"Letting a little bit of power go to your head." Scott laughed, although he still didn't sound too keen on going without Stiles.

"Yeah, I'm Britney, bitch." Stiles grinned. "Look, you know you love it, just go, get hit on by stupid amounts of men you won't sleep with, and think of me."

"Gross."

"Don't think of me and men you aren't going to sleep with." Stiles clarified. "No… wait… Hang on… **_Do_** think of me and men you aren't going to sleep with. You aren't going to sleep with me."

"I dunno, dude, you keep up with that stimulating conversation and I just might."

Stiles snorted a laugh. "Yeah, dude, you wanna make out? You know, just to see how it feels?"

He could hear Allison yelling from somewhere in the apartment, Scott's phone picking it up: "Stop flirting with my boyfriend!"

"Yeah, Scott, stop flirting with her boyfriend."

"Get lost, you idiot." Scott laughed, hanging up.

* * *

Derek knew that Jungle was busy, he just didn't think it was going to be **_this_** busy. Lydia was in the back office, probably rolling in money with the amount of people that had shown up, and Derek was being shown the ropes by one of the prettiest boys he'd ever seen.

"You're doing great," Isaac called over, giving him two thumbs up as Derek threw another note into the tip jar. Derek was starting to see just what Lydia meant when she told him he'd pull in the tips, he was sure he'd added about $50 so far, and it didn't look like they were stopping soon.

Most of the drinks needed mixed, there wasn't a lot of call for the tap beer – but so far he'd managed to keep his orders straight and not poison anyone, so he was starting to feel a little more relaxed. He wasn't ever going to be Isaac, who flirted and winked and laughed as he poured, but people didn't seem to mind. He was still getting tips, so that's all that mattered.

"Try not to glare at **_everyone_**." Isaac said, reaching over and dropping a cherry into the most elaborate cocktail Derek had ever seen. He sure as hell hoped no one was expecting him to make that.

"I'm not."

"So this is your normal face?" The curly-headed boy laughed. "Remind me never to get on your bad side." He looked over at the mass of bodies on the dance floor like he was looking for someone. Derek followed his gaze, arching an eyebrow. "What?" Isaac laughed, and Derek was taken back for a moment at how like **_Laura_** that laugh sounded. Like nothing was wrong, but with an undercurrent of… something else. A brave face. "I'm working, I'm not dead."

Derek made up his mind to keep an eye on Isaac. He'd not been able to see the problems that Laura was having until it was too late, maybe he could try to make things right… somehow… with Isaac.

"Thought you saw someone you know?"

"I know everyone here." Isaac shrugged. "Been working here since Lydia took over, about… what? 4 years?" He waved a hand around the room. "You see a lot of familiar faces."

"Is everyone here… you know, gay?"

"Ha!" Isaac barked. "I wish. You get more straight guys in here than anything, cause girls just love it here." He grinned and, before turning back to the girl waving at him from the end of the bar said, "Hell, at least they know it's a gay bar and don't beat the shit out of you if you hit on them."

* * *

Derek served a cola to the obviously underage teenager who was desperately trying to act like he knew what he was doing, and Derek was almost surprised when he didn't order 'One alcohol please, Barkeep' as he flashed his terrible fake ID. At least Derek managed to get his hands on a good fake when he was at school.

He was giving the kid a cold stare when he looked like he was going to argue the point, when Boyd was suddenly at the bar.

"Hey, man." He grinned, white teeth shining in the frantic lights. "How's the first night going – sup Isaac!" From down the bar, Isaac waved while measuring out shots into a mixer. "Thought I'd see how your grumpy ass was doing."

"Fine." Derek nodded, oddly pleased that Boyd had thought to come over and say hi. "You want a drink?"

"Yeah, rum and Coke," He grinned, before nodding out to the dance floor. "Erica's here."

Derek looked over to the floor and saw a lot of pretty girls dancing to the beat of the music. He wasn't sure what one Boyd was meaning. "The blond, in those tight ass jeans."

Ah.

Derek hadn't checked out a girl in years, but he wasn't dead – like Isaac had said – and the girl that Boyd was watching was seriously hot. Her long blond hair was curled and bounced around as she moved, a lot like the way Lydia's did, but she moved in a much more predatory way – as though she was luring people in with her body. Boyd was right, she was seriously good looking. Around her, people danced, but the guy that caught his attention was dancing beside her.

**_Stiles_**.

Derek wasn't sure what he was expecting, but the floppy dark-headed puppy dog that was laughing and holding her hand wasn't it.

"She's hot, right?"

"Yeah." Derek nodded, trying to squash down his disappointment. "It's on the house," He said, waving Boyd's cash away.

"I knew it was a good idea to be buddies with the barman!" He grinned, before raising his glass in a salute and making his way over to the dancing blond, having no idea that Derek was fighting a wave of disappointment so strong that it actually hurt.

He wasn't physically attracted to Stiles. At all.

* * *

Stiles was seriously bored. So bored, that he'd spent the last hour going through the time logs and sorting out the overtime requests. Technically that wasn't part of his job, but he didn't have anything else to do and it was easy enough – just time consuming.

His time was spent between that and texting Scott and Erica, who were partying like it was the end of the world, sending him pictures and video clips of them on the dance floor. He grinned at the clip that was playing on his phone, Scott lip-synching to 'Mamma Mia' and Allison in tears she was laughing so hard.

He pulled out another file and sat on the floor with his pad and pen, writing down the people who had requested more hours, and their call log profiles.

Scott had asked for more hours, and Stiles knew that he should probably help his best friend out, but his call times were terrible. Stiles also knew that he locked his phone up – meaning any calls would bypass his phone and click through to the next person – and so Stiles was wrestling with guilt as he put a cross beside his best friends name.

Erica hadn't asked for more hours. Erica didn't **_want_** more hours, although she'd been asked often enough. She held the company record for the most calls logged in a single day – beating out the overseas centres and everything – and the longest call in company history, clocking in at a whopping 5 hours.

Her parents were both dentists, and they'd bought her an apartment when she'd turned 21 – the only reason she had a job was so she could spend her free time partying it up and shopping, which Stiles totally approved of. If he had his way he'd spend his free time partying and playing computer games.

His phone buzzed again (great perk of having an office was being able to sneakily use his mobile) and when he checked it, it was from Erica. "Talk of the devil." He said to himself as he read through the message.

**_New barkpr is fking sx on lgs. Gimmie._**

**_Straight?_** He shot back, instantly. Erica had a gaydar to rival all gaydars. He didn't need to wait long for a reply.

**_Nt sre. Bi mybe. Hoooooot tho. Lke, ffs bb, kllin me! SE-THTH_**

Stiles laughed. System Error, Too Hot To Handle – normally used when referring to a laptop battery or charger unit. Erica had told him when he'd made it up that it could also be used to describe a person, and her texts were normally peppered with Droner Codes.

**_Pics or it didn't happen_**. He text her back, before typing up the hours requested and received into the weekplanner.

About half an hour later he got sent a fuzzy picture of what he assumed was supposed to be the seriously hot barkeeper, but all he could make out was dark hair and a white t-shirt. He looked built though, Stiles thought, putting his phone back on the desk. Not really his type. Big guys tended to want to dominate – and there was nothing more irritating that a guy who thought that just because you were smaller you were always gonna bottom.

* * *

Stiles had a girlfriend, and Derek felt like a fucking idiot. When Boyd had mentioned that this was 'Stiles scene', Derek had obviously thought that he was gay – or at least bi – and maybe he had been flirting a little on the phone.

Obviously not, considering the amount of face he was eating in the corner.

Looked like he wasn't the only one whose night wasn't going the way they wanted, because Isaac was purposefully not looking in the direction of the dance floor anymore. There was a guy, who arrived with some blond asshole looking guy, all smiles and tanned skin – and Isaac had lit up like a damn Christmas tree.

"Hey Danny." He'd grinned, ears slightly pink. Danny had smiled back, only to have the blond guy beside him roll his eyes and mutter something under his breath. Danny frowned at him, said something about 'being a prick' and paid Isaac with a smile that looked like a damn advert for goodliving vitamins.

After that, they'd disappeared into the crowd and Isaac tried to hide his smiles. Right up until he'd noticed Danny dancing up beside another (different) douchy looking dude with blond highlights and a lime green shirt, glowsticks in his hands.

Isaac's smile vanished for a moment only to be back an instant later, brighter and bigger – and so fake that Derek wondered why anyone else wasn't noticing.

They were still making a killing with the tips though, and Derek had been hit on so much he was starting to feel a little ashamed of all the times he'd flirted with bartenders – and the club didn't close till 3.

* * *

**_Duration: 2 hours 10 mins_**

**_Name: Spvr. Stilinski_**

**_Reason For Call: +WFCI+_**

Stiles typed up the notes with a smile. He'd found a headset and hooked it up to his phone, opening his line to the main switchboard and taking whatever calls came through. Although there was someone out of the main floor, he'd been so damn bored that there was nothing else to do.

Hale wasn't down in IT because Stiles knew now that he never locked up his phone and the line had been blocked all damn night.

He'd managed to help the stressed out college student though, who had been trying to connect to the internet. It could have only taken about 15 minutes for Stiles to fix the issue, but the guy had been super high on caffeine and sugar that they'd ended up chatting about everything – settling on a long drawn-out argument about keybinds and macros in World of Warcraft, so the job took much longer than it should have.

Also, Stiles found out about a couple new college bands that had put some stuff up on Promo Bay, so he was definitely going to check that out.

Now though, he was bored.

Again.

* * *

Boyd didn't leave with Erica, although Derek could tell he really wanted to. The place was still going strong at 3am, when Lydia had walked out of her office and waved the DJ down, much to the groans of protest from the dancers.

It was after 4am now though – and Derek was wiping down the tables as Isaac mopped up the floors. Everywhere smelt like disinfectant, sharp and harsh, and Derek just wanted to go home. His feet were killing him (He was going to buy some sneakers as soon as possible, because Isaac was managing to look totally at ease in his converse) and his head was pounding from the music that had been throbbing over him all night.

"How did your first really shift go, then?" Lydia said, walking over the empty dance floor.

"Yeah, good." He nodded, watching as she lifted up the tip jar.

"So I see." She glanced over at Isaac. "How many free drinks did he give out?"

"One, to Boyd." The blond replied, and Derek wondered just how closely Isaac had been watching him. "And he didn't break anything."

"Oh, that's actually better than I was expecting." She looked over at Derek. "You get three free drinks a night. Any more than that and they come out of your tips. I should have mentioned that. Anything happen I should know about?"

"There was an underage kid here, so you need to talk to Greenberg again." Isaac said. "He got a coke and left. Didn't start any crap, I think Derek scared the shit out of him."

"For christ sake, I don't know why I even have a doorman if he can't keep kids out of here." She snapped. "If I lose my licence because of Greenberg I'll flay him alive." She glanced over at Derek, "Good on you for checking the ID."

"Thanks."

"Right, both of you, out." She said, waving at them. "The cleaning crew can take care of the rest tomorrow."

* * *

Stiles was in his jeep waiting for the lights to change when he saw what was obviously the love of his life walk down the sidewalk.

Dressed in black jeans and a black leather jacket, hands stuffed deep into the pockets, and rough stubble on his jaw that Stiles could almost **_feel_** on his skin – damn. Double damn, because as he walked on, Stiles got a good view of his ass and felt his jeans get tight.

Sporting a hard-on at 5am in his jeep wasn't ideal, and he looked about nervously to see if anyone else was around. They weren't, but still… He managed to resist the urge to honk his horn and wolf whistle, because he didn't like the idea of being beaten to death, but had been sitting so long at the lights that by the time he realised that they had turned green, they changed back to red.

Dreamboat in Leather took the left turn, the opposite direction to where Stiles was headed, and he let out a frustrated moan, head hitting the back of his seat. Damn. He needed to get laid, fast, if he was having masturbatory fantasies about a guy walking past his car.

And if he managed to get some from a guy who looked like that… well… he could do worse.

* * *

**_It's FRIDAY! It's finally here!_**

**_I can taste the freedom of the weekend on my lips. Goodbye, office. Goodbye paperwork!_**

**_To those who already know me, and those that are just reading my stuff for the first time: I don't update at weekends unless I'm overcome with inspiration, so I'll see you all again on Monday._**

**_Thanks for your reviews – For those that asked:_**

**_ I live in a titchy little village in an area called Fife, across the water from our capital city of Edinburgh. It only has one high street (or main street, or whatever) and that only have pubs, chippies and hairdressers on it. It's dull as a dull thing._**

**_I spend my time letting my hair flow in the wind as I ride through the glen firing arrows into the sunset…. No wait… I don't. I play WoW, SWtOR and watch Supernatural, read too much fanfiction and need to get my ass off Tumblr before I scroll myself to death. _**

**_I have a strong accent and I was honestly surprised that people didn't know what Young MacGuffin was saying in the movie Brave, cause it was pretty clear to me!_**

**_(Oh, and Crowley is the _****_KING OF HELL_****_! And he brought Sam back! And he's evil(ish) but you can forgive him because he's super dapper. I think something is wrong with Cas, he seems… stressed or something. I worry.)_**

**_Love you all (yes, even YOU!)_**

**_Hugs, _**

**_Robyn_**


	5. Chapter 5

Derek woke up late Saturday afternoon, aching and surprisingly tired after his shift at Jungle. He went through his normal routine though, coffee, toast with a chopped banana on top – and his P90X workout. Once his muscles were burning and he started to feel the adrenaline, he started to feel much better.

There was a park, popular for joggers and dog walkers, near his building, so rather than jumping in the shower he pulled on his running shoes and threw on his college basketball shirt.

The weather was actually pretty mild, and running in the mid-afternoon sunlight was a lot more pleasant than the half-light of morning when his breath was visible and his hands would be numb until his blood started pumping.

Derek ran through the park, dodging the strollers and dog walkers with ease, seeing other joggers in groups or running alone like he was. He felt the tension of the night before work out of his body, letting himself enjoy the burn – paying his surroundings very little attention.

Which was why he dodged the red-and-white form that barrelled into him too late, and sent them both sprawling onto the grassy embankment.

"Jesus!" The smaller man said, "Fuck! Sorry!" and then "Danny, you douche, you did that on purpose!"

"Just get off me!" Derek snapped and then realised a few things. Firstly, the guy that was trying to untangle himself from Derek was wearing the old Beacon Hills lacrosse kit, even though he was obviously too old to be in high school, his eyes were almost gold, and his body was hard and warm and Derek hadn't been laid in a **_long_**time.

"Sorry dude," He laughed, and had that look about him that said he laughed a lot, the way his eyes crinkled at the side, and his wide mouth…

Derek forgot for a moment that he was trying to get the guy **_off_** him as his brain shorted out. Damn. He needed to get laid so fucking bad if he was reacting like this to a guy in the park.

Once they were both back on their feet, Derek aware that he was sweating like a damn racehorse after his workout in the house and now his run – took a quick look over at the group of guys who gold-eyes was yelling at. Danny, the boy that Isaac was mooning over the night before (looking full of sunshine as he laughed, red shorts and tanned torso) with Jackson-the-blond-douche who was dating Lydia. It looked like they were the 'skins' and… damn.

Stiles.

"Sorry again, Dude!" The golden eyed boy called as he walked backwards towards his friends. Derek wondered if he was actually checking him out as he went. "Contact sport!" There was something about his voice that Derek recognised, maybe he worked with Stiles? That probably meant that Derek had spoken to him on the phone at some point. Which meant that Derek could find out his name. And then maybe ask him out.

"Come on, Stiles!" Danny yelled, using his stick to throw the ball to Jackson. "We haven't got all day!"

Derek maybe stalled a little to check out the guys as they played. It was obvious that Jackson was the better player, but they all held their own in the 2-a-side that they were playing. His eyes though, kept drifting over to the guy with the gold eyes, who laughed and pushed – obviously happy in the afternoon sun.

* * *

"Danny," Stiles hissed as Mr Tall, Dark and Sweaty had finally stopped glaring at him and jogged off. "You utter bag of dicks. You did that on purpose."

"And?" Danny grinned, pushing him back. "You told us you seriously needed to get laid, and shazam! Hot guy jogging." He paused. "I did you a favour."

"You don't even know if he's gay. Next time I see Isaac Lahey I'm telling him you had a crush on him in High School."

"I will kill you in your sleep." Danny shrugged. "Anyway – if you'd stop bitching long enough – I could tell you that he's the new barkeeper at Jungle, so he might not be all-the-way-gay, but he's at least playing ball."

"Yeah, like a guy like that'll go anywhere near Stilinski's balls." Jackson snorted.

"Jump off a cliff, Jackson." Stiles shot back. "**_That's_** the new guy at Jungle?" He paused. "Erica told me there was a new guy working. She tried to send me a photo but it was blurry as hell."

"Yeah, he's working the weekend shifts with Isaac. Come tonight and you can flirt over the bar."

Stiles sighed. Damn. "I'm covering for Paul this weekend."

"You covered for Greenberg last weekend, Paul this weekend," Scott said, giving him a disappointed look. "It's like high school all over again, Dude. You need to start saying 'No' at some point."

"I'm just trying, you know, to look responsible now I'm a supervisor."

"Earning the big bucks." Scott laughed. "Pointless if you can't even spend them."

"Are you girls gonna bitch all day, or are we going to actually try to get some play?"

"Don't be a prick, Jackson." Danny shot back – the only person who could talk to Jackson like that without getting the shit beaten out of them. "We're coming."

* * *

"I saw that… Danny… guy today." Derek said as they set up the bar before it opened. "Playing lacrosse in the park with Jackson and Stiles – and some other guy."

"Oh, that'll be Scott." Isaac shrugged. "They were all on the team in high school – Jackson was the captain." He paused. "Danny was keeper and mostly Scott and Stiles were benched – but they got some game time near the end, they were both pretty good actually. I think they just like throwing each other around."

"So…" Derek said, trying not to sound too interested. "What's this Scott like?"

"Pretty cool." Isaac grinned. "Totally the life of the party."

Yeah, Derek thought, remembering those gold eyes and that smile – he looked like he'd be a lot of fun. Shame Derek wasn't really that outgoing.

"He works at Tardis." Isaac mentioned. Which would be why Derek recognised his voice. "I'm sure he was here last night." If he was, Derek certainly didn't notice. He'd been too busy being disappointed over Stiles. "Was Luke with Danny?"

"Who?"

"Luke? Tall, blondish…"

"Nah, just Jackson."

"Oh." Isaac said, looking at the glass in his hand and putting it away carefully. "Oh. Okay."

"They a thing?"

"They were." The blond nodded. "I thought they had hooked up again last night."

Derek shook his head. He liked Isaac. He didn't talk too much, and he seemed like a good guy.

"Cool."

* * *

Hot sweaty guy in the park was hot leather guy on the street. He wasn't sure why it had taken him so long to figure it out, but as he sat at his desk and typed up the last of his notes (God, it was only an hour into his shift) it hit him like a tonne of bricks. Hot Leather guy on the street. Hot sweaty guy in the park. Hot new bartender at Jungle. They were all the same hot guy.

Stiles typed without involving his brain, looking at the pile of notes that Sam Wesson – the weekend supervisor on day shift – had left. He could do a bro a favour and get that pile under control, maybe.

He pulled out his phone and did something he never thought he'd do.

**_Jackson, its Stiles – you got ppwrk needing done? Bored._**

He grabbed Wesson's piles and started on that. He was almost finished (wow, it took him a whole half an hour?) when he got a text back.

**_My office, week lgshts, tm yllow & pink filo. NEVER TXT ME AGAIN_**

Sweet.

* * *

"Scott is here!" Isaac called over, pointing to the dance floor. So far, Derek had been keeping an eye out for him, but had only seen Stiles and his girlfriend dancing with Erica again. They looked like a pretty tight group of friends, and Derek kind of wished he'd made connections like that. He gave up trying when it became apparent that he just wasn't the 'friendly' type.

* * *

Jackson had a mound of paperwork. Two mounds. Three – if you included the overtime sheets on top of the filling cabinet that was by the window.

Stiles grabbed as much as he could carry and took them to his own, much smaller office. The weekend logsheets were a lot easier to go through than the week – because they're were less people, and less calls. Jackson had to deal with nearly 150 people answering upwards of 200 calls a shift, so there was no wonder he was a little behind. It wasn't until Stiles saw the dates on the call logs that he realised just how behind Jackson actually was. The logs dated back almost three months – which meant that the finance team wouldn't know who was answering calls and who wasn't. Their commission would be totally out for the month, meaning some people would be paid more (or less) than they should be.

Stiles looked at the log files and felt his heart drop. Fuck. For this, Jackson could lose his job.

Forgetting all the times that he acted like a total prick, he wasn't actually a bad person, and Stiles would never forgive himself if he'd ignored something that would help his friend.

He pulled his chair closer to the screen and picked up the first file. If Jackson was struggling, then it was up to Stiles as a friend to help him out.

* * *

Derek was on his break (technically a smoke break, but he'd given up years ago) and tried not to let out a groan. He'd spent most of the night trying to get a look on the floor to see Scott, and the only person he could see was Stiles, dancing with his girlfriend, or another guy – he didn't seem to care who he danced with, which was pretty cool. Most guys didn't want to dance with drag queens, in case someone thought they were 'gay'. However, Stiles just seemed to be happy dancing with everyone. Remembering what he was like on the phone though, Derek wasn't surprised that he was up on the dance floor all night – and Derek had been sure he'd been flirting, so maybe… he let out a frustrated sigh. Regardless of what he thought over the phone, he wasn't attracted to Stiles. His buddy Scott on the other hand, with those gold eyes and that **_mouth_**… yeah, he could get into that in a big way. If he could just find him in the crowd. Maybe get him a drink 'on the house' which he was pretty sure could be seen as flirty.

He hoped it could be seen as flirty. Derek sucked at flirty. His previous… relationships (if he could even call them that) were mostly guys hitting on him and just… going with the flow. Stiles was the first person since Jimmy Novak that Derek had actively wanted to talk to, seek out, and see if it could go further. He just hoped there wouldn't be a pissed off boyfriend willing to kick his ass like there had been with Jimmy.

He just needed to get Scott to come to the bar.

* * *

Stiles was typing faster than he'd ever typed in his life. He'd managed to get the three months' worth of call-logs imputed into the system down to a month and a half, but there was only an hour left of his shift. His fingers were going into spasm as he typed rows apon rows of numbers, not even looking at the keypad anymore as his fingers were flying over the keys.

He'd had one call, luckily, to keep him from getting further – a simple 10 minute call that normally he would have minded about. There was still so much to go through though, and he tried not to think about just how much more he had to get through when he went back in tomorrow, the last of his weekend shifts for Paul.

* * *

Derek was walking home, glad that he didn't have to take the car because he was running on frustrated energy that he needed to burn off. Apparently Stiles had been up on the floor all night long, just out of Derek's vision. Isaac had apparently served him a couple of drinks, but he wasn't a heavy drinker obviously, because Derek hadn't seen him at all.

He was walking, hands stuffed into his pockets, when he heard an engine pull up at the lights. He turned, almost out of habit, to make sure he wasn't about to get run off the sidewalk by an impatent cabbie (New York had been an education on that) and saw…

Scott.

Driving.

He looked bleary eye'd and half asleep, and Derek couldn't help but think of the drunk driver that had crashed into his parents car, killing them both.

"Should you be driving?" He called out, forgetting that he'd not actually said more than three words to the guy, but the instant his golden eyes locked with Dereks, he knew he'd been right to say something.

"Yeah, dude, I'm good. Just tired."

"You shouldn't drink and drive."

"I've not been drinking." Scott said with a smile. "I wish I had. Just tired." He yawned hugely, and Derek wondered where he'd gone after closing if this was him just getting home. Maybe he'd met up with someone. "You should have said you knew Danny." Scott suddenly said, not paying attention to the lights, which changed as he sat in his car. "He said that you're working at Jungle."

"Yeah." Derek nodded.

"Sweet. Everyone knows everyone around here, you know? I guess it's cause there isn't that much to do. You either work at Tardis, or you go to Jungle, or you hang out at the park. Do you need a lift home?"

He rolled his sentences so that there didn't seem to be a break between the two, just one long stream of talking. Derek found it oddly soothing, which was a bit weird. It took him a few moments to realise that there had been a question in there.

"I'm just around the corner, actually." He said, pointing, then feeling like an idiot.

"Yeah. Cool, Okay. Well, dude, I've been on my A game all night and if I don't get some sleep soon I'll end up a drooling mess in about fifteen minutes." He smiled again, and Derek found himself wondering what it would be like to have him smile against his skin, if he talked as much during sex, if he'd moan or beg or demand. The thought made his jeans tighten, and he had a horrible feeling that if he kept up that line of thinking, he'd be standing in the middle of the street with a damn hard-on for anyone to see.

"Yeah." He agreed, feeling his ears turn red, feeling like a total pervert.

Luckily the lights changing for the second time seemed to catch Scott's attention, and he started moving the car.

"Yeah, okay, dude. See ya around!" He called, as he pulled away, leaving Derek standing on the street with his red ears and a bulge under the fly of his jeans.

* * *

Stiles was so thankful that he'd stopped the car before Hot Leather guy spoke to him because he was pretty sure he was having a heart attack. Jesus, he looked like sex on a stick to Stiles half asleep, work overloaded mind.

Stiles wasn't even sure what had made him turn around, and had a horrible idea that he'd actually felt Stiles laser gaze on his ass. He'd offered him a ride home, he knew, which was the most stalkery thing that he could have done. You don't offer strange men a ride, no matter how hot they were. If it turned out that Hot Leather Guy was also Hot Dexter Serial Killer, Stiles would never live it down.

Stiles kicked his apartment door shut with one foot and locked it behind him, mind running now on autopilot as he went through everything he could remember about the encounter. Damn, why was it every time this guy saw him he wasn't on his A game?

'You shouldn't drink and drive.' He'd said, which made Stiles pause. Did he think that Stiles had been out all night partying and this was him just getting back? There was a mirror in his tiny living room over the gas fire, and Stiles nearly cried at the sight. He looked drunk. He looked like hell. Stress always made him look pale and spending all night going through mountains of paperwork had caused dark bags under his eyes to develop.

He looked like hell.

He was never going to get laid. Next weekend he wasn't doing anyone any overtime. He was going to work is regular hours, and spend the night at Jungle and having some fun with his friends.

And maybe flirt with the hot barman.

Right now though, he was too tired to even care about sleeping in his work clothes – he sat on the couch and within moments, was sound asleep.

* * *

**_ How in all that is holy is it Monday already?_**

**_I think... I think there was some kind of time stream slip and I ended on the wrong side of the weekend. _**

**_I had such a bad day at work. Like, I start at 9am and by 9.15 I had already lost the damn plot. It was so bad that by 9.30 I had to get a managers permission to go outside and yell at my best friend about how much I was going to kill my fucking sales advisor, who had hung up on me because of my 'unwillingness to help'._**

**_I started my training for the 'MoonWalk' in June tonight. It's a sponsored marathon through Edinburgh in your bra! Much fun!_**

**_I watched Skyfall last night because of 00Q. I really am not a Bond fan. It was okay I guess. Soundtrack was amazing though._**

**_(OH! Dean got abducted by Alien Fairies. And Sam doesn't want his soul back cause he's a dick. And Castiel learned a lot from the Pizza man, and I'm pretty sure he didn't kill Crowley because I saw gifs of him from later)_**

**_And I love you all. Hope you had a good weekend, and that your Monday wasn't a total suckfest. _**


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles found three empty whiskey bottles in the trashcan when he pulled it to the sidewalk. Three. That was one less than last week, but still three too many for his liking. Dinner with his dad was awesome, always was. They had some kind of healthy food, washed it down with a beer and watched whatever sports was on the TV, or an old western his dad had seen so often he could tell you every line, and would sometimes say the dialog under his breath.

He'd told Stiles that he'd stopped drinking as much. The three bottles in the trash said he'd lied, and Stiles wasn't sure how to go about telling him that three bottles a week was too much. No matter how stressful your job was.

* * *

When Monday finally rolled around, Stiles was exhausted. More than exhausted. He'd spent his entire weekend shifts going through Jackson's late paperwork and his head with throbbing when he arrived to his own desk Monday night. There was a post-it note stuck to a file on his desk.

Thanks. J.

Inside the file was a collection of customer feedback forms, and Stiles almost groaned when he looked at them. Customers never left good feedback, it was easier to complain than compliment.

It took him a few moments to realise what he was looking at.

Jackson had collected all of the positive feedback that Stiles had gotten in his 5 years of working at Tardis. There wasn't a lot – no one ever got a lot – but it was there, in writing, the people who had taken the time to write in about him. It was a really… personal… thank you from Jackson. He must have gone through the archives to find these.

Stiles was actually very touched.

* * *

"Stiles."

The happy, bright voice said down the line, and Derek managed not to groan. Stiles sounded like he always did.

"Hale."

"Cedrick!" He laughed. "Please tell me you aren't passing up another shouty man."

Derek wondered if he even knew how flirty he sounded on the phone, because it was sending all the wrong signals. Especially since he had a girlfriend. "No, sounds like a Sales Call." He paused, unable to help himself. "Not Cedrick."

"Chad? Chance?" Stiles shot back almost instantly. Derek wondered if he had a book or something that he was pulling these names out of, because no one had a mind that listed names in alphabetical order.

"Nope." He found himself almost smiling. Maybe he should ask about Scott. Maybe Stiles would try to set him up with his friend. That's what bros did, right?

He paused. "So… Apparently Scott was at Jungle this weekend." He started, knowing that this wasn't the type of conversation that he should be having over the phone, during work hours.

"He was, yeah." Stiles said. "He's a total ass on the floor, too – gets hit on by anything with legs. I've never understood it." There was a pause. "Were **_you_** at Jungle?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. **_Right_**."

"I didn't see Scott though."

"You couldn't have missed him, Chandler." Stiles laughed.

"Not Chandler either." Derek found himself grinning. "You should have come over, I would have gotten you a drink." _Do. Not. Flirt. With. The. Straight. Boy_.

"I wish, dude, I was here all fucking weekend." Stiles laughed, "I'd better take this call."

**_Duration: 5 mins_**

**_Name: Hale_**

**_Reason For Call: SC – Req Sup. U wrk wknd?_**

* * *

You at work last weekend?

Stiles read the message again and wondered what the hell that was supposed to mean. Of course he was at work all weekend. And Hottie Hale was at Jungle. Hottie Hale went to **_Jungle_**. This meant that there was a good chance that Hottie Hale was swinging for the same team as Stiles. Which meant that Hottie Hale just got a whole lot hotter.

**_Duration: 2 mins_**

**_Name: Sup Stilinski_**

**_Reason For Call: SC-FO. cvr4sup263.Y?_**

* * *

He had been covering for another supervisor whose phone extension was 263 all weekend? **_And_** at Jungle? Derek read the notes again and felt… Somewhere, someone was laughing. If the guy on the dance floor wasn't Stiles, then who the hell was he?

* * *

It was **_Scott_**. About an hour later Derek had worked it out, the guy on the dance floor was Scott. Which meant Golden Eyes was Stiles. Who he'd met at the park. Who he'd thought was drunk driving. Who he really wanted to have sex with. Stiles.

Maybe he **_was_** flirting.

* * *

Stiles was kicking back in his chair, chilling out, paperwork done, night half way done, and Hottie Hale down in the basement offered to buy him a drink. At a gay bar. Straight guys don't offer to buy you drinks at a gay bar, right? Getting a round in didn't count. Oh God. He was flirting with a guy who seemed to like him and offered to buy him a drink, sounded like sex on a stick and didn't think Stiles guessing random names was annoying.

Stiles wondered what he looked like. He sounded hot, but then… Stiles managed to sound professional with his perfected phone voice. It really didn't matter what he looked like, after all, Stiles wasn't a damn prize or anything, with his scrawny ass and stupid moles everywhere.

God.

What if Hottie Hale was seriously hot, and he took one look at Stiles and was like… Nah, I'm good, but thanks? What if he was like Danny and Stiles just wasn't his type? Maybe his type was like Danny, or Isaac, or (god forbid) Jackson. Or Scott. God – had he been asking about Scott because Scott was his type?

Maybe he was one of those guys who didn't ever leave the basement. Maybe he playing for the Horde. God, could Stiles Alliance heart ever take that? Maybe he didn't play any computer games. Maybe he preferred regular fries to curly fries. Maybe he had a stack of bodies in the yard. Maybe he was into bondage. His mind explored that for a few moments.

Maybe he really **_did_** work on a sex phone line in his spare time. God, that shouldn't be sexy but it was. Stiles would end up flexing more than his credit card to talk dirty with Hottie Hale.

Then again… maybe he wasn't flirting and Stiles was reading into things **_way_** too much. He did that. He'd done that before.

He leaned back into his chair and let out a sigh. Damn. He wasn't ever going to get laid.

* * *

Once a month, on a Wednesday, Stiles met up with Lydia to catch up over something good to eat and a few drinks. Although their friendship had started off with a one way infatuation (Stiles still remembered his 5 year plan to get Lydia to fall in love with him) by Senior year they'd spent so much time in the same classes, and working to the same level – Lydia was much better at numbers, but when it came to English Stiles wiped the floor with her – that they'd become pretty good friends.

"So I fired him." She finished, looking up from her menu. "I mean, really? Soliciting? In my bar?" She gave a snort.

"You could have lost your licence." Stiles agreed. Stuff like that was how places like Jungle lost their reputation for fun and just became another dive.

"I know that some people think the private dances mean more than… well… private dances, but to think I was some kind of idiot."

"You wanted to have the place in Fresno."

"I wanted a lot of things, I got permission in Fresno. It's not the same thing." She handed the wine list back to the waiter. She paid for these meals, mostly because his idea for a nice place to get something to eat was Breadsticks. "I'll take a bottle of the house white." She smiled.

When the waiter left with their order, she looked over at Stiles with a softer expression. "I hear you may have saved Jacksons ass at work."

"I don't know." Stiles shrugged. "I just did some paperwork."

"I know I'm not supposed to know this… but…" She looked over at him with a fierce expression. "Something is going on."

"Lydia, you really do sound like a slum lord when you talk like that." Stiles grinned, playing with the cutlery on the table.

"Shut up. I'm simply a well-connected Business person with many friends." She stopped long enough for Stiles to nod his head in mock salute. "And one of my many friends pointed out that Lisa Fowler has been shuffling paperwork to Jackson as top priority urgent, causing his other paperwork to slide. Namely, the end of week commission reports."

"And would your friend be a Miss Argent?"

"Perhaps." Lydia shrugged. "She's too good for that place, and I may or may not be trying to poach her for myself."

"Sweet."

"The point is, Stiles, that this Fowler woman is delaying the commission figures."

"So people aren't getting paid enough."

"But the amount going through payroll hasn't dropped."

"Oh."

Stiles knew Lydia wasn't supposed to know about this. Stiles also knew that if Lydia had found out about this it could be traced back to Allison, Jackson and Stiles. Which would lead to them losing their jobs. "Lydia, you know something like this could get us all into a lot of trouble?"

"Yes. That's why I'm telling to now to watch your back. Don't make mistakes, don't do the last moment filing. I've already spoken to Jackson and he's making sure that there is a paper trail that shows what he's been asked to do," She gave him a pointed look. "I suggest you do the same."

Stiles nodded. Lydia was a fantastic business woman, but people only saw the surface of her businesses. She ran clubs, strip bars – people only saw the seedy side. What they didn't see was the fact that she built it on nothing. Her parents had been pretty well off, and then they got divorced.

They spent everything, lost everything, with the vicious battle that went on for years. In the end, all that was left was Lydia's college fund which she turned into a small fortune while she got her degree. She was also head of a few committees and was well respected as a job maker. Stiles took everything she said seriously.

"I'll make sure I keep paperwork."

"Not at home. Never at home. Keep it at work." She smiled, looking a little too much like a mafia don for Stiles piece of mind. "Keep anything you think is suspect in a file, in a nice innocuous place. Don't hide it, just… don't make a big deal of it either. I'm sure there is a filing cabinet somewhere no one is using."

"I think there is." Stiles nodded.

"In other news, I hired a new bartender and he's just your type."

"I've heard." Stiles grinned. "I've seen him."

"Have you seen him in a vest?"

"I have."

"Shirtless?"

"Nope."

"Pity. I think he'd make a killing on ladies nights at Harpie."

"You've never asked me to strip for you, Miss Martin," Stiles winked.

"You do want me to make money, right? Not pay out vast amounts of money for the psychological damage seeing your pale ass on my stage would cause."

"You wound me."

"So would they."

* * *

"Channing?"

"Nope. This woman is actually screaming down the phone at me."

"Yeah, they do that. Charles?"

"Are you going to take the call? And no."

"Yeah, okay, pass her over… Chester."

The double click and… yup, screaming woman blasting down the line. He tried to soothe her the best he could while he watched the notes update on the screen.

**_Duration: 35 mins_**

**_Name: Hale_**

**_Reason For Call: !FMB. NtChstr._**

Fried Motherboard. Sweet.

It wasn't a common fault in the hardware that they sold, but it was common enough that there was a company line on how to handle these calls. Simply take all the details and pass it on to the Drainers in Customer Relations. Stiles was starting to understand why they always looked like they were going to throw themselves into traffic, if this was the kind of thing they had to deal with every day.

**_Duration: 24 mins_**

**_Name: Sup. Stilinski_**

**_Reason For Call: !FMB-p2CR-t4t 008 _**

* * *

**_This is a super short chapter, and I'm so sorry for it. _**

**_Work has been a total nightmare today as well and I'm just utterly drained. I will try to get a decent sized chapter up tomorrow and please don't hate me for just being so 'blah' about this!_**

**_At least Derek knows that Stiles is Stiles now, although Stiles doesn't know Hottie Hale is Hot Leather Guy yet. I wonder how that could work out….?_**

**_Oh, and I love slumlord-mafia-boss-hbic-Lydia. So… sorry!_**

**_And… what is going on at work? Is Stiles about to become embroiled in office drama? How serious is the Sheriffs drinking problem? What does Derek look like shirtless?_**

**_I guess I've still got loads to write._**

**_(Oh, and I've got my best friend watching Supernatural. I'm worried she won't like it. As a fair exchange of shows we love, I'm start to watch Community, as she watches that)_**


	7. Chapter 7

Derek knew now who Stiles was, not the dark-headed (straight) puppy dog, but the Golden-Eyed (probably not straight) flirting supervisor. So when Friday rolled around and Stiles-the-supervisor had been solidly flirting with him all week… Derek got ready for work with a little more care than he normally took.

Isaac had already set up the bar when he arrived, and he listened as Lydia told him about the upcoming angels and Demons party that they were throwing the next week.

"I know it's not your regular hours, but if you can get in here for about 4, I'll make sure you get paid for it. Tips'll be insane. Isaac is going as an Angel,"

"Wings arrived from ebay this morning." Isaac said, with a grin.

"So you can either go as an Angel and match, or go as a Demon." She gave him a long look. "And if you think that you'll get away with not wearing a costume, please be warned that I have a whole wardrobe in the back with various drag items that I will force you into – don't for a moment think I won't."

Derek didn't doubt it.

When she'd grabbed her keys and blown them a kiss over her shoulder – heading out to one of her other clubs to keep an eye on things there, Isaac laughed.

"You look like someone just kicked a puppy, dude, what's wrong?"

"Dressing up?" He growled. Derek hated being the centre of attention. Hated it. That's why he worked on the phones. Hel, if he didn't need the money he wouldn't be working in a bar at all.

"Aw, don't worry. White vest, white jeans – foil halo. Everyone is going to be dressed up – so you won't stick out." He paused. "I'm kinda hoping to stick out though, tips are amazing on themed nights, people go insane. You might wanna brush up on the cocktails though." He added. "Cause you'll be getting a lot of pitchers ordered."

* * *

Stiles looked in the mirror and grinned. Yeah, okay, he might not have a body that was going to win any GQ awards but he didn't look too bad in his white long sleeved t-shirt and dark wash jeans. He'd even spiked up his hair a little because… well… Hottie Hale was going to be there, he had offered to buy him a drink and Stiles was a little nervous about seeing him for the first time.

Slightly.

Meaning he was already starting to sweat and his ears were burning. He'd gotten himself a leather jacket, which reminded him of Hot Leather Guy, and grabbed it as he heard his phone vibrate in his pocket. By the time he'd gotten down the flights of stairs, Scott and Allison were already waiting on him.

"Dude!" Scott grinned, "Seriously working it!"

"Oh, Stiles, you look great." Allison added, so Scott had obviously told her about the not-date that was going on tonight. Where Hottie Hale was going to buy him a drink.

"Thanks." He grinned. "We walking?"

"Yeah." Scott shrugged. "We'll pick up Erica on the way there, we've to text her when we get near her block."

* * *

Stiles, Scott, Erica and the girl Derek assumed was Scott's girlfriend, arrived just as the place was starting to get busy. The music was so loud that people were almost screaming their orders at him, but Derek's night just got a whole lot better.

It was Erica who came to the bar first though, waving Derek off and leaning over the bar to wrap her arsm around Isaac's neck. Whatever she whispered in his ear made him blush crimson, and she gave him a sly wink as he poured her orders. When she left – drinks loaded on a tray – he threw Isaac a pointed look.

"What was that?"

"Oh, Erica? She's… she's an old friend. We kind of had a thing senior year."

"A thing?"

"A thing." Isaac blushed. "Not… just… we went a little wild, really." He said, laughing suddenly. "We were late bloomers, and when we got through the spots and the awkwardness… we just went a little crazy."

"I'm a little scared to know what you think classes as crazy."

"Nothing serious, just… you know, out all night, smoking, partying, spent a couple of nights in cells… we thought we were Beacon Hills answer to Bonnie and Clyde." He looked around. "We had our reasons."

The way he said that made Derek wonder just what his reasons were. He got the feeling that Isaac perhaps didn't get the best upbringing, but then… Derek couldn't judge, with what he had growing up.

The music was loud, and everyone seemed to want served at once – and Derek hoped he'd get the chance to buy Stiles that drink he'd promised.

* * *

Stiles was beyond depressed. He'd kind of assumed that he'd know what Hottie Hale looked like – or at least, Hottie Hale knew what he looked like, because aside from the flirting, there wasn't a lot he know about him.

He'd told Stiles that he'd be at Jungle, and that he'd buy him a drink, and… well… Stiles had arrived hours ago and the only drink he'd been offered was from Danny. Who probably was just feeling sorry for him.

"My round!" He called out, when they all collapsed into the side booth in the VIP area – Greenberg kept his word, at least – and grabbed his wallet. "Same as last time?"

The laughter and chorus of 'yes' lost over the music as he made his way towards the bar. Isaac was already serving, which gave Stiles the opportunity to get a good look at Hot Leather Guy up close.

"Hello again!" He called, grinning.

"Hey." He said, voice straining to be heard over the loud music. "Good night?"

"Sucks balls." Stiles said, shaking his head. "I was waiting to meet someone and they haven't shown."

"Oh." Hot Leather Guy (Or Hot Barkeep, Stiles hadn't decided yet) said, looking a little disappointed himself.

"Yup." Stiles grinned ruefully. Sucks balls to think that you might actually meet a guy who you might actually like, who might actually be into guys, who then didn't even show up for your almost date thing. He gave his drink orders and leaned against the bar. "Sup, Isaac!" He called out, giving the curly-head blond a wave. The replying salute made him laugh. Damn, but Isaac was a cool guy. Why couldn't he be into guys like Isaac? Instead, he'd gone and built up this ideal guy in his mind and now… nothing. He felt like an idiot.

Hot Leather Guy poured the drinks, and Stiles might have ogled a bit, cause although he was a little (a lot) heartbroken, he wasn't blind, and Hot Leather Guy was seriously hot. Like so hot. Like, let me lick you all over twice, hot.

If Stiles hadn't been waiting for Hottie Hale to show his possibly mildly attractive face, he'd totally have spent the night attached to the bar. Now though, hot and sticky from the amount of people in the place, he just felt… bland. Disappointed.

"Here are your drinks." Hot Leather Guy said, putting them on a tray.

"Thanks." Stiles smiled, trying not to perv at the way Hot Leather Guy had some seriously sexy scruff going on. Stiles loved that.

"It's on the house." Hot Leather Guy said, looking at Stiles like this was in some way meant to mean something.

"I can't let you do that, dude!" Stiles laughed, wondering what was so familiar about the guys voice. Perhaps the two times he'd spoken to Stiles, once in the car and once when he'd fallen over him, had somehow addled his brain. He was seriously hot enough to addle tiles brain. "Lydia would have your balls for that."

"I said I would." He growled, and damn, as Stiles walked back to his table, wasn't that the sexiest sound he'd ever heard?

* * *

"The hot barguy is totally checking you out again." Scott pointed out on the dance floor, where Erica and Allison were dancing amongst a group of dragqueens. "You should totally go and ask him out."

"Dude!" Stiles laughed, "Who the hell do you think I am? I've agreed to meet with someone tonight, you know that."

"Well, Hottie Hale hasn't arrived and that's his loss, dude. Go over there and ask him out."

"No." Stiles said, shaking his head. "If Hale arrives late or something, the first thing he's going to see is me hitting on the damn barman like a teenager on his first night out. No. Now way."

* * *

Stiles didn't recognise him. Well… Stiles didn't recognise him as the guy on the phone. Who he was obviously waiting to arrive. Which meant that Derek wasn't what he was expecting. Which was a horrible feeling.

He guessed he actually liked that Stiles hadn't just given up hope that the guy on the phone would arrive, not the way his eyes would swing to the door with every new arrival, but when Derek was right there… it kinda sucked.

"You okay, dude?" Isaac asked. "You look like you're eating a lemon."

"Just having a bad night."

"Well, don't frighten off the paying customers."

* * *

Stiles got home, sober and unhappy. He hadn't met Hale. He hadn't picked up the hot bartender. He hadn't drank nearly enough.

He pulled out his wallet and change from his pocket and found the receipt that the barman had given him. Total cost of drinks $0.00 which was actually pretty…

**_You were served by : Hale / Lahey_**

Wait…

What?

Wait.

Fuck.

* * *

The bar was empty, at last, and Derek was wiping down the tables when he heard someone arguing at the door.

"Look, dude, seriously, I'll call her. I know her."

Sounded like someone was trying to get back into the building after closeing which was something Lydia was pretty firm about. Which was why he was a little sirprised when a few minutes later, the doors opened.

"Hey, Stiles." Isaac called. "You forget something again?"

"Yeah." Stiles said, walking determinedly over to Derek, who couldn't take his eyes off him. "You," He pointed directly at Derek. "Are Chip Hale."

"Not Chip either." Derek managed.

"Whatever." Stiles shrugged, grinning from ear to ear. "Yeah, it's actually a great idea to start off a conversation about meeting at Jungle with '_I work at Jungle and will see you there_' which cuts down all the fucking drama of me thinking you just stood me up."

"I got you a drink."

"Holy shit dude, I have dinner every week with Lydia, I've known Isaac forever – how many times do you think I pay for a drink in this place?"

"He's got a point." Isaac called over. "Is this why you were asking about Scott? You like Stiles?"

"I thought he was Scott." Derek grumbled, feeling slightly embarrassed that he'd apparently made a couple of pretty idiotic mistakes.

"You thought I was Scott?" Stiles spluttered. "I'll have you know I'm actually way more awesome than him."

"True." Isaac called out, grinning.

"So…" Stiles said. "How much longer are you working?"

* * *

**_And…_**

**_Sorry. Just really, really sorry. I wanted to write so much today, but I've had to take work home and… I just don't have the time right now._**

**_Have a meeting between Derek and Stiles that isn't full of misunderstandings. _**

**_And I'm really, really sorry it's another short one. _**

**_And if you log in as a guest and say something – I cannot reply to you. So if you point out something, I cannot tell you otherwise. _**

**_For the anon that left me a review – I do read my own stories (rude person) - _****_and_****_ I double checked. Derek does not tell Stiles his first name at any point in any chapter. _**

**_(Community was funny, I liked it. I've not watched another ep of SPN and I doubt I'll get to tonight, with all this crap I've had to take home)_**

**_Love you _**


	8. Chapter 8

Stiles invited Derek back to his place, because… well, he hated sleeping in other peoples beds. Not that he planned on getting a lot of sleep, but still. At least in his own apartment he knew he had a brand new bottle of lube and a box of condoms, because he totally should have been a boy scout with all his level of preparedness.

"So, why did you move here?" Stiles asked as they walked. It was already starting to get bright, the morning sun starting to warm the air.

"My parents were from around here and…" Hale shrugged, "It's one of the only places that I could get a half decent job."

"At Tardis."

"Yeah."

Stiles had quickly figured that Hale wasn't much of a talker, but Stiles more than made up with that with his constant flow of thoughts.

"I'm going to be on nightshift from now on." He said, looking up at the brightening sky. "Night Supervisor."

"I meant to say congratulations."

"Yeah, thanks." Stiles laughed. "Not much of a difference, really, to working on the floor. I thought it was going to be like… super hard, but it's actually seriously dull."

"Not a lot of calls?"

"Not a lot of anything. I spent last weekend helping out Jackson and now I've got nothing to do, unless he leaves me stuff he didn't finish."

"Jackson… Lydia's boyfriend?"

"Yeah." Stiles nodded. "He's got this whole 'total douche' vibe going on, but I've known him forever, and he's not that bad. I mean," Stiles added. "If I was stuck without a lift somewhere, I think he'd laugh down the phone, but if I was really stuck – like… seriously in trouble, he'd be there before you could snap your fingers."

"I saw him with Danny." Hale said.

"Yeah, Dan-o is his wingman. They go most places together."

"Isaac said." Hale nodded. Stiles totally forgot that Hale worked with Isaac. Curly headed, blond Isaac at the bar whom Danny was totally in long-distance-lust with.

"I doubt Isaac even knows who Danny is," Stiles hedged, hoping he'd be able to get some information he could use to get Danny to actually ask him out. "He was a bit of a bad boy at school and Danny is apple pie nice."

"I thought maybe they had a thing." Hale shrugged.

"In Danny's dreams," Stiles snorted. "He's not exactly backwards in being forward, but with Isaac he's a total loser." He grinned. "I'm not above walking into a bar and just asking."

"I noticed."

"Dude, don't act like you totally aren't impressed." Stiles laughed, pushing open the door to his apartment building. "I was working on a hunch!"

Hale half pushed him through the doorway, and – holy crap – Stiles found himself pressed up against the cold wall of the hallway – Hale pressed up against him. "I might be slightly impressed." He growled, and… well…. Stiles mind went completely blank.

* * *

By the time they got up to Stiles door, he was hotter than hell and harder than diamond. Hale was about the same size as him, but broader along the shoulders – Stiles was going to have a great time working out exactly where his buttons were, because Hale had worked out that Stiles really liked it a little rougher, and that the patch of skin just above his collar bone made him groan – and he was making full use of that information as Stiles fumbled with his keys.

"Seriously, dude," He managed to groan out as Hale sucked a pale bruise just above his collar bone. "I need to open the door."

Without even lifting his lips from Stiles skin, Hale took the keys, pushed them into the lock and twisted – opening the door with one hand. Which Stiles thought was probably one of the hottest things he'd ever been part of.

They fell through the open door; Stiles kicking it shut as Hale pulled off his jacket and threw his own onto the floor beside it.

Hale really enjoyed pushing Stiles up against walls, and Stiles loved the feeling of being under someone's control – arching and groaning into the move like a porn star (his mind drifted for a second because he was sure he'd seen something like this, with a guy getting totally fucked against the wall and… damn….) before Hales fingers worked under his tee-shirt and found skin.

Stiles wasn't sure if they could get any more frantic, but fuck him, things suddenly got a lot more urgent. He couldn't help the stream of "Fuck, more, god, please." That was leaving his mouth as they mouthed and licked over what little skin they had actually managed to get at.

"You are wearing way to much clothes." Stiles panted. "Like, get them off. Too many. Now." He commanded, and damn if Hale didn't just lean back and pull his work shirt right off over his head, exposing miles and miles of tanned, muscular torso. Stiles was glad that he was pinned to the wall because he was pretty sure if he'd had to rely on his own legs for support he'd be on the floor. "Okay." He nodded. "**_Okay_**, bedroom, behind you." Stiles managed. "Now, go, move." He pushed Hale back, both hands on Hales broad shoulders, urging him back into the room.

As they walked, Stiles hauled his t-shirt over his head, slightly intimidated about the fact that Hale looked like a GQ model and Stiles looked like a good breeze would blow him over, but he forgot all about that with the growl Hale let out, grabbing Stiles jeans by a belt loop and causing their hips to lock together as they tumbled onto the bed.

"I don't even know your name!" Stiles let out, as Hale rolled onto his back, Stiles straddling his hips.

"It's-"

"Shut up!" He let out, covering his ears. "Seriously, dude! If I wanted you to tell me," He rolled his hips against Hale, the flies of their jeans rubbing together. "I'd **_ask_**."

Stiles was a fan of making out. He was a **_huge_** fan of making out, and touching, and rubbing, and all kinds of fun things to do with a partner. Right now though, if he didn't get what he wanted he was going to fly apart at the seams.

Hale was letting out a steady rumble, a deep masculine growl as he bucked his hips upward, trying to get more friction.

Stiles hands worked at his fly (thank god he wasn't wearing a belt, because there would have been actual tears) and let his fingers trail over the tight denim. Hale was hard – large and hard – under his hands, and with every brush of Stiles hand, he would let out a moan, eyes fixed on Stiles face.

It was intense, and a lot more intimate than Stiles had expected. Sure, he figured that Hale would be a little… serious, or whatever, but this was awesome. This was full on eye-fucking and Stiles was totally into it.

He popped open the last button on Hales jeans and – fucking hell, Dude was commando! Stiles couldn't help the whimper of need in the back of his throat because… oh holy hell, that was hot. That was so much hotter than he'd thought it would be.

When he pulled the denim back, Hale actually lifted his hip to help – Stiles was impressed because he was still straddling him. Yay for strong boys!

There was an awkward moment when Derek hadn't kicked off his boots and the jeans got tangled up around his ankles, but… even as Stiles was laughing, he didn't feel stupid or un-coordinated. He felt fucking awesome, especially when Hale pulled himself up and flipped them over, making quick work of Stiles jeans and getting them off in one easy movement. Stiles was in his boxers – tenting like a damn teenager, and Hale was working his way down Stiles pale skin, eyes fixed on him.

"Seriously? Dude? Come on." Stiles groaned, "Fuck the foreplay, we'll do that once the edge is off."

"I'm going to take my time." Hale growled, and… well… if Stiles had been a lesser man, he might have just let him do whatever the hell he wanted.

"Yeah, that's not going to work for me." Stiles said on a groan, as Hale traced his lips down his hip bone. "Like, at all."

"Are you always this impatient?"

"No, mostly I'm worse. Seriously, dude, we can do all the fun stuff after we've done the **_really_** fun stuff."

"I don't have anything with me." Hale said, sounding a little unsure. Stiles managed to lift his head up from the mattress and grinned hugely.

"Top drawer."

There was always a moment between the 'yes let's do the sex' and the prep work of putting on a condom and getting the lube to open without getting it everywhere, and normally it was at this point that hard-ons tended to droop. Not with Hale though. He had the condom on and bottle open in moments, every movement looked smooth and easy – without the fumbling that Stiles had come to accept as part of the package.

"Did you take lessons in hotness, dude?" Stiles grinned, as he watched Hale pouring a decent amount of lube into the hollow of his cupped hand. "Cause **_damn_**."

Hale looked at him and grinned, properly grinned, the first time Stiles had ever really seen him smile, and the change was… unreal. "Holy shit, you go through life with a scowl on your face, and it turns out you're a-freaking-dorable."

"Thanks." Hale said, scowling again. "I think."

"Oh, so much a compliment. So much less like a serial killer. Although… you know… if you take any longer here I might actually di-" He was cut off when Hale, taking complete advantage of Stiles distraction, cupped his lubed hands around Stiles balls. "Holy shit." He whined, "Fuck."

Stiles wasn't a virgin, so he was expecting it when Hale, still cupping his balls, dropped a finger to start working around the puckered muscle of his ass. He wasn't expecting Hale to lean down and lick the flat head of his dick as he pushed a long finger inside.

"Holy… fucking… batman." Stiles groaned, and actually felt Hale smile as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked him down deeply. Which was awesome. And really weirdly… nice. "Dude, if you keep this up I'm not gonna last long enough to see the main event."

Hales only response was to hum around his cock – so fucking hot – and to slide another long finger inside, scissoring gently.

"I'm good, we're good, let's go." Stiles urged, hands trying to pull at Hales hair, pull him up his body.

Hale looked up at him, lips still around his cock and raised an eyebrow. How did a guy manage to have such damn expressive brows? Jesus. He pushed another finger inside of Stiles, never breaking eye contact, and Stiles felt the burn as he was stretched further. He let out a groan as his head tipped back, hitting the mattress.

"Mh-hm." Derek hummed, sending sharp bolts of pleasure through Stiles body – distracting him from the fingers working him open with a gentle scissoring. After a few minutes, he was actually begging.

"Hale, for fuck sake, you are killing me." He whined, hips rocking back onto the fingers that were working inside him. "I'm serious. I'm not going to last."

Hale pulled his mouth off his cock with a sinful 'pop' that had beads of pre-cum leaking liberally from the slit of his dick, and pulled himself up, covering Stiles body with his own. Stiles grinned, finally getting what he wanted, and then gasping as Hale rolled over suddenly onto his back and Stiles straddling him.

"Fucking right." Stiles grinned, as Hale used one hand to keep him steady and the other to push the head of his cock against Stiles entrance.

Being on top meant that Stiles was able to control the pace, and as he lowered himself onto the hard length of Hales cock, he let out a hiss. He wasn't the longest guy Stiles had ever been with, but he was thicker, and the burn was equal parts pain and hot as all hell.

"Fuck. Fuck." He hissed, as it took him longer than he wanted to admit to bottom out. "Fuck me."

"I plan on it." Hale said, and Stiles couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh, now your impatient. Now? Fucking comedian, you are." He grinned. Hales reply was lost in a deep groan that seemed ripped from his chest as Stiles lifted himself up and rocked back down, starting a rhythm that he had full control over.

He'd lost some of his hard-on with the burn of taking the full size of Hale, but as he started to move, Hale reached between their bodies and wrapped his lubed hand around his cock, tugging in time with his thrusts. Stiles knew he wasn't going to last long. He never did the first time – but when Hale's hips started stuttering, he knew that the tanned god under him wasn't going to last too much longer either.

Hale's hand fell away from Stiles cock as he started blindly thrusting upwards, desperate for more – which Stiles was more than happy to give him. He wrapped his own hand around his spit and lubed up cock and pumped franticly until his balls tightened up and – finally – he threw his head back and painted long, hot stripes of cum across Hales chest. The tightening of his muscles caused Hale to growl deeply as he thrust faster through Stiles orgasm and moments after him, came with a gasp, rutting until the tension left his body, and Stiles slumped against his chest.

* * *

After they had cleaned up the worst of the cum and lube away, Derek had a moment of panic that he'd maybe fucked up with having sex with Stiles right away – maybe he should have done the whole 'getting to know you' first, like a normal person. But, as he was thrown a pair of plaid boxers to wear in bed, he couldn't think that he'd done anything wrong.

"Chuck?"

"Nope." He grinned, feeling like it had been years since he'd smiled so much. "You know, it's a little weird that you've slept with me and you don't even know my name."

"Dude, it's totally our thing. We have a **_thing_**. Shut up and bask in the afterglow of awesome sex."

Stiles pushed him back onto the bed and then climbed over him to get to the other side. He was all arms and legs, like a newborn horse, and it made him look a lot younger than he was.

"I am basking."

"Nah, let me show you how to bask like a pro." Stiles said, pulling him down and throwing the cover over him, so that they were both cocooned in blankets. "First, you need to like… snuggle down."

"I don't snuggle."

"Yeah, you do. You just don't know it yet. Snuggle."

Derek wriggled into a more comfortable position and found himself suddenly tangled in with Stiles long legs, an arm thrown around him.

"I don't cuddle."

"Sure you do." Stiles grinned, "You're doing a great job."

Derek lay there for a moment and then looked at Stiles, whose eyes were already drooping. "Are we sleeping?"

"We're resting." Stiles mumbled, voice heavy. "For round two."

"Right." Derek nodded, but Stiles was already asleep and… well… he was pretty warm and comfortable, even with the cuddling, so he closed his eyes and wrapped an arm around the warm body beside him.

* * *

**_I know it's another shorter one, but at least work is starting to look a little better for me today. I've managed to get most of the hard stuff out of the way and I'm now looking at the dull and monotonous side. YAY!_**

**_Thanks to everyone for being so supportive of these shorter chapters, because I was really feeling like crap and you were all just really fucking awesome and I love you. _**

**_I hope you accept this chapter of Smut as tribute, and may the odds be forever in your favour. _**

**_I'm hoping that I'll be able to get an episode of Supernatural watched, and perhaps a community episode too, tonight. Such a good feeling when you don't have to take work home with you! _**

**_Expect next week to be a better writing week. I turn 28 (fuck, wait... no? Fuck. 28? When the hell did that happen?) so I'm hoping that I'll become like, super mature and suddenly adult because I'm creeping my way ninja style to 30 – and I'll be able to plot and have suitable time management and shorter author notes._**

**_Love you all! _**


	9. Chapter 9

Derek woke up in a strange bed with a deep ache through his body. He remembered everything at once, the fact that he'd met Stiles, properly met him, and then slept with him only hours later.

Then he remembered that he'd had sex with Stiles, and… damn… he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. He wasn't sure if he should get up – if he even wanted to get up.

He'd never just… slept with someone he didn't know. And although he knew Stiles… he'd **_really_** only just met him. Then the fact that he'd just slept with a total stranger hit him.

"So, what's the frowny face for, Cisco?" A highly amused voice from the door said, and Derek managed to pop his head up from the pillow to look.

Stiles was wearing a pair of faded cotton bottoms only, his chest and feet bare. There were bruises forming on his hip bones that Derek could see where his bottoms were hanging low, and he felt a stab of guilt that he'd not been more gentle. He didn't get off on hurting his partners.

"Just thinking." Derek managed. "Cisco? Really?"

"You'd be cute in a thong-tha-thong-thong-thong." Stiles replied, singing the last few bars. "I made breakfast, anyway." He grinned, "So you can either wallow about in bed for the rest of the afternoon or you can get your sweet, tight ass up and get eating while it's still warm. Clarence."

Derek threw a pillow at him, which he managed to dodge with ease. "Okay, okay!" He laughed. "Get up, big man, I've got plans."

As he walked out of the room, Derek found himself panicking. Stiles had plans. Which meant that he'd probably been waiting for Derek to wake up so he could kick him out. Derek wasn't good at one night things, he didn't like one night stands. They just seemed a bit sleazy and he wasn't…. fuck. This was a one night thing and he was a fucking **_idiot_**.

He pulled himself out of bed, bare feet padding on the floor. He needed a shower – so badly – but grabbed his jeans, thrown half way across the room, and pulled them on over the boxers that Stiles had given him to sleep in. He'd need to make sure that he got them cleaned and returned…

The apartment was small, but larger than Derek's tiny place, and from the looks of it there were two bedrooms – Derek hadn't known that Stiles had a roommate. There were a lot of things Derek didn't know about Stiles, it seemed.

The living room was small, completely taken up by a blue sofa and a large TV. Under the TV was stacks of computer games and consoles, Derek was sure there was even an old Sega megadrive under there – which made him smile a little.

"Dude, eat." Stiles called from the kitchen. The kitchen was tiny, a Formica table and two chairs pushed up against the wall with two plates, loaded with food. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, a fried tomato, mushrooms… everything. "So, breakfast is the most important meal of the day." Stiles said, pouring a large pint glass that looked like he'd stolen it from Jungle with Orange juice. "Breakfast like a king, Lunch like a Prince, Dinner like a Pauper." He grinned, waving Derek into the chair. "My mom told me that when I was a kid," He sat down opposite Derek, their knees banging against one another. "Although you probably have like, a protein shake or something."

"I normally have juice and half a grapefruit."

"Gross." Stiles wrinkled his nose. "Are you not going to eat?" He asked, when Derek made no move to start on his plate.

"What?" He said, then picked up his fork. "Oh, no, I'm okay." Derek cursed himself under his breath for being a fucking idiot, but started on the food before him. "I'll be out of your feet once I'm done."

"Your leaving?" Stiles voice sounded strained, and when Derek looked up, he was frozen in place, loaded fork half way to his mouth.

"You said you had plans?"

Stiles laughed. "Ah, I can tell, you're going to be one of those seriously literal people who need everything explained to them in minute detail, right?" He said, chewing and swallowing as he spoke. "You're like… _oh my god, I'm being kicked out of his flat and this was like the best sex I've ever had and how will I ever live without this pale streak of awesome in my life_, when what I said was_, I've got plans_." He grinned at Derek over the table. "Which totally include you, me, showers – and don't think I didn't see you eyeing up my sweet gaming set up, dude – food and awesome."

Derek looked down at his plate, not really liking just how much Stiles was actually right.

"I can already tell that communication is going to be our major issue." Stiles was saying, talking with his mouth full of scrambled eggs. "Clark."

Derek shook his head as he chewed, letting the knowledge wash over him that Stiles wasn't about to kick him out after their night (or morning really) together.

And Stiles talked. He talked a lot, about everything, anything that crossed his mind and went off on tangents and made Derek laugh so hard that he nearly choked on a mouthful of bacon.

"I don't like that you don't know my name." Derek admitted, standing beside Stiles and drying the dishes that he washed.

"It's our **_thing_**." Stiles shrugged. "Like a cute thing that we have."

"It's a little creepy."

"It's cute. Think about it, when we tell our adoptive children that we had a little flirty thing with guessing your name, they'll be like, 'Dads, you are so cute!' and shit."

"We're having kids?" Derek said, looking at Stiles like he'd lost his mind. "We've only just met!"

"Dude, please. Like you could ever live without me." Stiles laughed, nudging him in the ribs playfully. "I'm awesome."

* * *

Stiles was worried that Hale thought he was a total idiot, but he was laughing along with the jokes and didn't seem like he was going to run for the hills, so… Stiles was going to take that for a win.

He'd hoped that the breakfast would be a gold star in Hale's eyes, but when Hale had told him he only normally had a half a grapefruit (like, was that even a real thing for breakfast at weekends?) he thought he'd made a mistake. Hale had eaten everything though, and even stole another slice of toast, so… yeah. Good.

He'd even insisted on drying, which was nice. Stiles normally just let them air dry.

"So… shower or…" Stiles grinned, "Do you wanna check out the games?"

Hale shrugged, but his eyes flicked towards the TV, and Stiles knew he'd picked a winner. "Well… I've got CoD, MoH, GTA-"

"Is that a megadrive?"

"It is." Stiles laughed. "Sonic?"

* * *

They were sitting together on the couch, and Derek was having a **_great_** time. He couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled so much – his ribs were hurting, half because of laughing, and half because Stiles wasn't above a well-placed elbow to further his chances of winning.

He was winning, not by much, but enough to say he was going to beat Stiles, when the dirty little cheater took his hand off the controller and ran it down the inside of Derek's thigh. Derek sucked in a breath, not expecting it, and Stiles laughed. "Oh, dude, you seriously need better control."

"I have control."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Prove it." Stiles smiled, stopping their game and starting a single player one. "Game over, means game over."

Derek was about to say he had no idea what Stiles was talking about, but when he slid off the couch and settled between Derek's thighs, he understood.

By the time Stiles had pulled his cock out of his jeans, Derek was already half hard. "So… you need to press play." Stiles grinned up at him, and Derek wasn't sure if this was the greatest thing that had every happened or the strangest thing – but as he hit 'start' he didn't give a damn.

As soon as the music started to play, Stiles hands started working on his shaft, effectively killing Derek's ability to concentrate on the screen. He nearly died on the first jump, only saving himself with a quick double tap.

By the time he had 50 rings, Derek was starting to feel like he had it under control – which was round about the same time that Stiles leaned forward and licked a long stripe up the underside of his cock, and Derek completely forgot how to play, running right into a turtle.

"Two more to go." Stiles reminded him, as Derek started again.

* * *

By the time he got into the shower, Stiles was weak kneed and smug – he'd managed to get as far as the end level boss with Hale's mouth around his dick, and poor Hale had only managed to get midway through level 2. And he'd only lost that fight because it was seriously impossible to concentrate on the screen when the hottest guy on the west coast had been moaning and humming around the head of his cock.

His shower wasn't big enough to get two people in, so he'd generously allowed Hale to jump in first – after all, he'd just given the best blowjob of Stiles life – and was now racing against the first blast of cold water that would tell him the tank was empty.

"Are you up for the market?" Stiles called out, as he rinsed the last of the suds from his body. "I think we've still got time."

"Market?"

"Yeah," He called, turning off the water and stepping out on the cool tile floor. "There's like a market thing on a Saturday, stalls and fruit and stuff."

"I didn't know that." Hale said, and as Stiles walked out of the bathroom he saw that Hale had only managed to put his jeans on – and thank God, because those were some seriously lick-able abs.

"Yeah, it's totally up your grapefruit eating alley, Claude."

"Do I look like a Claude to you?" Hale shot back. "Please."

"Clay? You could totally be a Clay with those abs."

"Nope."

* * *

"Cliff?" Stiles asked, as they walked around the market. Derek couldn't believe that he'd been living in this town for over 3 months and never knew about this place. There were stalls of farm fresh goods, homemade crafts… everything. There were even little gaming booths that Stiles just had to try.

Derek was having a great day. Like… a seriously great day. Stiles was probably the most interesting guy that he'd ever dated – and they were dating, because Stiles hadn't even bothered with the '_getting to know you'_ stage and had just jumped right into '_we're a thing now_' which was good with Derek because whatever this thing was Stiles was, it was a good thing. It was a **_great_** thing.

"Well, look at you!" A familiar voice said brightly from beside one of the stalls. Derek turned around to see Lydia walking over to them both. "I told you he was your type."

"I don't think you did." Stiles was saying, cotton candy stick in his hand. "Clint here," He pointed to Derek, "Has never been to the market and I'm simply showing him around."

"Clint?" Lydia said, "That's not his name."

"Shhh. I'm going to guess it." Stiles said.

"Adorable." She smirked. "Stiles here will be able to help you with your Angels and Demons costume for next week." She said, looking at Derek. "He's a master of costumes."

"You haven't got one yet?" Stiles said, mock horror on his face. "Wings!" He grinned. "Love a guy with wings, I do."

"His little scoobie gang showed up last Halloween like a pack of werewolves." Lydia laughed. "And Stiles here hadn't told them what he was wearing, and the little shit showed up in full drag as little red riding hood." She paused. "I think you won that year, didn't you?"

"I did." Stiles grinned at him. "No one recognised me!"

"You are a very pretty girl." Lydia nodded.

"Not as pretty as you."

"True. No one is as pretty as me." Lydia laughed. "Well, I'll let you two get back to your totally adorable date thing." She smiled at Derek. "See you at work."

"Shit." Stiles said, as she walked away. "I totally forgot you had work." He looked at his watch. "What time do you need to be there?"

"Seven." He said, slightly worried that he'd forgotten that he had to go to work that night. He'd been having such a great time with Stiles it just… slipped his mind. Which was so unlike him. For a moment he wanted to call up Laura, tell her about this crazy guy who made him forget about things like work and fed him sweet snacks and made him laugh – and then remembered that Laura didn't have access to a phone where she was. She wrote him letters once a week, normally just saying how she was doing. That she missed him. Letters that made Derek feel guilty because it was easier for him without her there. Easier to go to work in the morning and not have to worry that you'd get a call from some stranger that his sister was passed out drunk somewhere… or worse.

He looked at Stiles, with his gold eyes and a wisp of cotton candy caught in his hair, and wondered if he would understand.

"Well, I can make something to eat, and then you can go back to your place and get changed, if you want." Stiles said, sounding slightly unsure. "I don't really have plans."

"Are you going to Jungle?"

"I wasn't going to." Stiles said, looking around at the market. "Scott wanted a CoD tournament."

"Right." Derek said, nodding. "Well… if you don't mind cooking…"

"Clive, I'm going to make a stir-fry."

"It's not Clive either, Stiles."

* * *

When Hale left, tasting like soy sauce, Stiles felt like punching the air. He was pretty sure that they were in boyfriend territory already, which was awesome.

He unhooked the megadrive and connected the 360, making sure his headset was connected. Scott was, predictably, already online, and as soon as Stiles screen loaded, he already had a team request.

"Someone got laid." Scott's voice was clear in his ears. "Who was that opening the drapes this morning?"

"Are you stalking me, dude?"

"Ha. Allison saw him. She thought you might be getting murdered."

"Nah, you know Hottie Hale?"

"Yeah…"

"He's the bartender at Jungle."

He could hear a feminine gasp and a 'whoop!' down the line at the same time as: "You are fucking kidding me!" as Jacksons voice burst in his ear. "You're not seriously sleeping with an IT douche?"

"Shut up, Jackson." Erica and Scott spoke together. "Is he still at your place?"

"Nah, he's working. I thought you guys would be there."

"I'm not in high school anymore." Erica laughed. "I can't party **_every_** night."

"Are we gonna play or are you guys gonna bitch like little girls over the miracle that Stilinski actually got laid?"

* * *

Lydia had already told Isaac that Derek was out with Stiles, and after seeing them leave together, he'd assumed (correctly) that they were sleeping together.

"Dude!" He grinned. "That is so awesome! Stiles is awesome! Will he be here toni- Oh, no… Erica said they were having a tournament or something on a game."

"Yeah."

"So, is this like… a thing? A real thing?"

"I think so."

"Cool." Isaac smiled, turning to face the first of the customers of the night. "Really, good."

* * *

"You know, I heard that Stilinski isn't the only droner dating an IT dickwipe."

"Ohhhh!" Scott and Stiles said together. "Do tell."

"Shut your fucking mouth Jackson," Erica snapped, "Or I'll do it for you."

"Aww, is this Erica and Boyd?" Stiles asked. "Cause we already knew about that."

"How the hell did you know about that?" Erica cut in, and then groaned at the laughter down the line. "Yeah, whatever." She said, but her tone was undercut with a smile. "Laugh it up. You do realise this means that we're all in pairs or whatever now."

"I'm not double dating with you douchebags."

"Like I'd want to expose Boyd to your ugly ass." Erica cut over him. "But like… what about Danny?"

"What about him?"

"Well… he's still half hooking up with his ex, and we all know that guy is a fucking asshole… so maybe we should do something about it."

Stiles frowned at his controller. "I don't think Danny would appreciate that."

"What if I told you that Isaac Lahey is currently single and – whilst under the influence of a **_seriously_** strong bottle of tequila last month – told me that he's had a total crush on Danny for years."

"Lahey is a bigger loser than you, Reyes."

"Danny does like him though." Scott admitted.

"We're not setting Danny up with Isaac." Stiles said. "We aren't 5 years old."

"I never thought these words would ever leave my mouth, but I agree with – _map is ready_."

"Sweet."

"Let's kick some balls."

* * *

Derek grabbed his jacket and waited for Isaac to set the alarm on the door before they set off.

"You want to grab something to eat?" Isaac asked, pointing over at the small diner across the road that was opening for all the early morning commuters. It was already nearer to 5am than 4, so Derek nodded.

"How long have you been working at Jungle?" Derek asked, as the sleepy looking waitress took their orders.

"Since high school." Isaac shrugged. "I had a fake ID and lied through my teeth – and the owner back then knew he could pay me next to nothing, all under the table. I can't even think how many laws he broke with that." He shrugged. "He was a total asshole. When Lydia bought him out, he tried to intimidate her into a lot of shit, you know? She didn't take any of his crap."

"She seems… forward."

"She's a scary bitch and I wouldn't cross her if my life depended on it." Isaac laughed. "First thing she did was fire me. And then she re-hired me under a proper contract. Not a lot of places want to take on a guy like me."

"Can't be that bad."

"Yeah – it kinda is." Isaac shrugged. "I guess you don't know because you aren't from around here, but for a long time people thought I killed my dad." He looked down at his soda. "I got arrested, taken out of school… everything."

Derek looked at Isaac and frowned. He didn't seem like a violent person at all. In fact, he seemed more submissive than anyone Derek had ever met.

"I didn't, though – turned out it was some crazy kid who said my dad tried to drown him when he was younger or something, but… well, by then, most people had already made up their minds."

"I'm really sorry about your dad."

"Don't be." Isaac shrugged. "There were a lot of reasons people thought I killed him. A lot of people thought I **_should_** have."

"What do you think?"

"He was a bastard. But he was my dad." He looked up as the waitress put their orders on the table and shuffled off. "Fuck, dude, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to dump that on you-"

"My sister, Laura, she's in a clinic, up north." Derek said, looking at his plate rather than the curly headed man in front of him. "For alcohol and drug abuse. Our parents were killed when I was a kid. My uncle set a fire for insurance, you know? But he didn't know my parents were in there. He tried to save them… but… it was too late. Laura had to look after me, and… it wasn't easy." He paused. "I wasn't easy."

"You were a kid."

"So were you." Derek shrugged. "I think we're both kinda the same."

"Yeah, I think we are, a bit." Isaac agreed, smiling a little and picking up his fork.

* * *

Stiles was woken up by a text message at 6am, which was probably illegal on a Sunday, from Hale.

**_Just had breakfast with Isaac. Heading home._**

Stiles blinked a few times, and then started typing.

**_You can crsh here f u wnt._**

* * *

Stiles woke up slowly. He had a serious gaming hangover – the only reason they weren't still playing was somewhere around 4am Allison took Scott's controller off him and told him if he ever wanted sex again he would stop screaming at the TV and get his ass into bed. After that, they all kind of called it a night.

Waking up though, was made better because he was currently wrapped around a warm, solid body that belonged to a guy so hot that Stiles was still reeling in the fact that he'd even looked twice at a guy like him.

He moved closer, snuggling deeper into Hale's side and trying to remember if he'd ever felt so comfortable with a guy who he'd really only just met.

"Are you awake?" Hale asked, voice low and rumbling though his body.

"Nope." Stiles responded. "I am still sound asleep and am unable to perform a reach around."

"Well… at that angle, I don't doubt it."

"Fuck off."

"Are you hungover?"

"Gaming hangover." Stiles clarified. "Caused by listening to Jackson and Erica bitch at each other for hours and getting our asses kicked by 8 year olds." He paused, trying to snuggle deeper into Hale. "How was Jungle?"

"Loud." Hale shrugged, moving his arm so that he could wrap it around Stiles. "Tips were good though."

"Yeah, no wonder. Look at you." Stiles sighed. "Pity tips." He yawned, closing his eyes again. "We're good for another couple of hours, though, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good." Stiles nodded, drifting back to sleep.

* * *

"So…" Stiles said, leaning back in his chair. "I kinda met someone."

His dad glanced up at him, fork midway to his mouth, and gave him a steady look. "Do I need to talk to you about the dangers of STDs, personal boundaries and consent?"

"No, dad." Stiles sighed. "I just wanted you to know." He shrugged, trying to make light of it. "He works at Tardis, and weekends at Jungle."

"What's his name?"

"I'm not telling you. Last time I told you something like that, you did a background check!"

"I'm just looking out for you."

Stiles sighed. "I'm just looking out for you too." He said, glancing at the glass beside his dad's plate. "That's the 3rd time you've refilled that."

"It's my day off." He said, throwing Stiles a dark look. "I'm allowed to have a drink on my day off."

"I'm not saying you aren't, but last week there were three bottles in the trash, and there are four this week."

"I'm not a damn child, Stiles." His dad snapped.

Stiles didn't' t know how to approach the conversation without sounding like he was itching for a fight. "Look, dad, I'm just concerned." He started, but he was waved off.

"I know." His dad said. "I know. I just… I'll drink less." He said, nodding and pushed the glass further away. Stiles smiled.

"Thanks dad."

"Hey, so this new boyfriend," His dad grinned, going back to his vegetable casserole. "How serious is it?"

"Don't know yet." Stiles admitted. "I like him. He's got a good smile when he uses it, and… it feels like I've known him for a long time."

"You should invite him for dinner."

"Yeah – no – that's not gonna happen. You'll pull out your gun and interrogate him."

"I would not."

"You've done it to everyone else!" Stiles grinned, and wondered why he was so worried about his dad as they ate and laughed together.

* * *

**_And… Hello!_**

**_Look, a normal sized chapter for you all – even a little longer than a normal sized chapter!_**

**_I arrived at work today to do the dull monotonous part of the crap storm I was dealing with throughout the week, to find that our servers were down and…. THERE WAS NOTHING FOR ME TO DO ALL DAMN DAY. So I wrote this in-between trying to look like I was doing actual work._**

**_If I get fired I'm totally blaming every single one of you. Then demanding alimony because I've been supporting you all with fanfic for months and months. _**

**_So…_**

**_A few nods to cannon events – Isaac's dad was killed, Isaac did in fact get blamed, and in a town like Beacon Hills, I think information would travel like wildfire and Isaac would perhaps have acted out a little ( a lot ) for a while. _**

**_The Hale family was killed in a house fire, but rather than Kate Argent, it was Peter._**

**_Laura is a troubled young lady with a few problems that she is working towards overcoming. _**

**_I hope you liked this longer chapter!_**

**_In other news, I watched an episode of Community last night – the one about seizing the day and 'Today I will have… A BIRTHDAY CAKE! – which was quite funny. _**

**_I also watched an episode of Supernatural and it looks like Death is a sassy-assed-mother-fucker whom I love and adore, and who has – I think – just put Sam's soul back into his body against his will. I love death. I think Bobby is a gem. Can Bobby be my dad? Like, for real? I love him. _**

**_As you know, no updates at weekends, so I'll see you all on Monday and I hope everyone has a great weekend – I'm just about to head out for my 'Walk The Walk' training with my team-mates. It's times like these that you are aware of just how seriously unfit you are as you try to keep up with everyone else. _**

**_I need to get in shape before I walk about in my bra – no matter what charity it is for!_**

**_(I should note, I have never played CoD in my life, so I'm seriously hoping that my descriptions weren't too far off the mark – if they are, forgive me!)_**


	10. Chapter 10

Derek found himself settling into a routine with Stiles. Because Derek worked days and Stiles worked night, they didn't actually spend a lot of time together.

Derek learned that Stiles didn't have a roommate – the extra room was Scott's who'd moved out across the street with Allison who also worked at Tardis – in accounts. He found out that Stiles dad was the local Sheriff. He found out that Stiles was a great cook but was lazy – and loved take-outs. He learned that he took his computer games seriously and that at Tardis, news about inter-departmental romances spread like wild fire.

"So, I hear you've hooked up with Stilinski up on the Droner floor." Boyd grinned, looking up from his text-book.

"I hear you just got your ass dropped by Erica?"

"Touché."

* * *

Stiles learned that Hale was a neat freak who put everything back the way he found it like he was in the military. He learned that his morning routine consisted of half a grapefruit and a run before he showered for work. He learned that Derek liked home cooked meals over take-outs. He learned about Laura and her rehab (or retreat as Hale called it) to help her with her drinking. He also learned that Hale didn't like dressing up. At all.

"Cody – Lydia will kill you if you don't wear something themed."

"I'm not wearing wings." Hale grumped, sitting on the edge of the bed while Stiles got ready for work. They had a few overlapping hours that were normally spent either laughing or making out – normally both. "And it's not Cody."

"I refuse to sleep with a Colbert, I'm sorry." Stiles laughed. "So if that's your name, please, pick up your toothbrush and leave – wear horns then. You have to wear something!"

"I'm not putting horns on either."

* * *

Derek felt a little weird that he'd pretty much moved into Stiles apartment when they'd only been together a week, but Stiles had given him Scott's old key and told him that only an idiot would miss the chance to spend more time with him, and Derek – who'd spent his time since arriving in Beacon Hills getting to know exactly one person (Isaac) – had to agree with him. He found himself laughing all the time. He couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled so much, he felt as though he hadn't a worry in the world.

So when he unlocked the door to find Stiles standing, grinning like a cat who'd not only stolen the cream but the whole damn cow, he knew something bad was about to happen to him.

"Cole,"

"Nope."

"Fine. Colin – _no, don't interrupt!_ – I've got you an outfit for the weekend."

* * *

Derek was wearing a pair of wings and a halo, as well as the tightest pair of white jeans he'd ever worn in his life. He was pretty sure his changes of ever fathering a child were dropping the longer that he wore them. Luckily though, he'd be able to pay for the testical retrieval operation from the tips he was making alone – and Isaac was managing to pull in twice the amount as he was.

The place was bursting with people. He'd already seen Scott and Allison (dressed as Angel from Buffy and a weeping angel from Dr Who) and Erica, who was apparently some white eye'd demon called Lilith in a simple white dress splashed with 'blood'. There was a lot of beige trenchcoats and ties – which Derek didn't understand – and a **_lot_** of people with wings. It seemed (aside from Erica and a couple of others) Angels were the thing to come as. White suits, white jeans, white vests, white wings… Derek had felt like a total idiot before the doors opened, with his jeans and wings (Stiles had insisted that he remain shirtless – which was why he was making a fortune in tips) standing beside Isaac who was wearing almost the same thing, but with bigger wings.

Then everyone had started to arrive, and Derek felt less like an idiot but more like a piece of meat. He saw Boyd, wearing a black suit and looking… well… just like Boyd, approach the bar.

"What the hell are you meant to be?" Derek called out, pouring him a drink.

"Uriel." Boyd shrugged. "He was the only angel of colour I could find on Google." Isaac – at the other side of the bar – waved over at him, smiling widely. "I see Isaac went with the Angel as well, huh?"

"Yeah." Derek shrugged. "I thought there would be more demons."

"Yeah – a big club of gay guys and the opportunity to wear feathers?"

"Point taken." Derek laughed. "I thought it might be quieter. Yesterday was dead."

"Yeah," Boyd laughed as he paid for his drink. "Everyone was saving up for tonight, dude!"

* * *

Isaac was pleased with his wings. They were a little smaller than they looked online, but that was probably for the best as he tried not to knock all the bottles off the shelves behind him. He'd always gone as the Angel – the innocent – to these things, because in a way, it felt like he was atoning for all the crap he'd pulled as a teenager. He was pretty pleased that Derek had gotten with the programme and decided to wear something, almost identical to what Isaac wore, but he thought that perhaps Stiles had more to do with that than anything. From how Derek had been acting, Isaac thought that perhaps Stiles could have gotten him to arrive dressed like a Cupid, with a diaper and everything.

It was good though, to see him smile more, and it didn't hurt the tips.

* * *

Stiles loved dressing up. He'd set the bar too high at Halloween with the drag thing, it was fun but he wouldn't do it again, so when he picked his outfit, he decided against any of the costume shop ideas and gone for something a little more… sophisticated.

A lot of red dye and some crazy sewing skills (thank you High School credits for the props department) and he looked… well… like a damn king. King of Hell, to be exact.

When he arrived, late because his damn contact lenses wouldn't go in, he handed in his coat to the cloakroom and got a wolf whistle – which was exactly the best way to start the night.

He'd gone for a tight (so tight!) red pants and a matching red waistcoat that fitted him like a second skin. He wore a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a blood red tie – black contact lenses and had taken full advantage of the hair cut he needed to spike two horn shapes with some gel – wolverine style.

He looked like he'd just stepped off a photo-shoot for vogue – just hoped that his eyeliner wasn't going to end up running all the way done his face – and he felt fucking killer.

Once he'd walked into the main space though, he threw up a silent prayer that he'd kept away from the Castiel he'd been playing about with, because he could see at least 5 different trench coats, and he prided himself on being original. As he passed, he found himself getting appreciative looks from the guys around him, and smirked at them as he walked, full off swagger and intent – he was heading for the surly looking angel behind the bar.

* * *

Derek saw Stiles arrive and had a moment where he found breathing a little difficult before he got a grip of himself. Stiles was wearing… well… red. Lots of red. Tight red. And a suit.

Because he'd only ever seen Stiles wear his jeans and hoodies around the house, and his loose-fitting work clothes, he wasn't expecting to see him in that tight suit and… Derek hadn't ever thought of himself having a suit fetish, but seeing Stiles dressed like that made him appreciate the body underneath – and judging by the smirk and the swagger as he made his way over to the bar, Stiles knew exactly what he was doing.

* * *

Isaac got the feeling that Derek hadn't seen Stiles in full 'cos-play' mode before – and was watching the reactions play across his face as Stiles approached the bar. Isaac had expected Stiles to pull out all the stops, and he had, with **_that_** outfit. Some kind of demon, Isaac thought – Stiles probably did some research before settling on a look – the black contact lenses looked awesome with the dark eyeliner he'd used. Everyone was watching him swagger up to the bar like he owned the place.

He poured another couple of drinks, wondering if he should have gone as a demon this year – when he saw him.

Standing off to one side of the room, partly obscured by people as they walked between them… was a demon. The black suit wasn't as tight as the one Stiles was wearing, mostly because the guy was pretty built across the shoulders, but his devil mask meant that Isaac just couldn't tell who it was.

And he was staring.

At him.

With dark, intent eyes.

Isaac served the drinks with a grin, putting his (large) tip into the jar, and looked back. The devil was still there. Still staring.

And damn… but that was hot.

* * *

"I'll have a rum and coke." Stiles said, throwing Angel Hale a dark smile (that he'd totally been practicing in the mirror for the better part of a week) and got a thrill up his spine when he got a slightly flustered look in return. That was his plan. He wanted to make sure that by the time they got back to his place, Hale was ready to do anything Stiles asked. And Stiles was going to ask for a lot.

"It's on the house." Hale said, voice rougher than normal. Stiles chose to think it was the tight ass suit and the hotness he was projecting, but it was more than likely the fact he'd been shouting at people all night with the volume of the music.

"Careful, Angel – I might just take advantage of your position at the bar…" Stiles replied, letting the emphasis sit on the word position and trailing off. He could see the darkening of Hales eyes as he spoke, pupils going wider.

He gave Hale another suggestive smile (practiced, of course) and carried his drink over to where he could see Scott and Allison dancing.

"Angel?" He scoffed, goosing Scott with his free hand, getting a decidedly un-masculine squeal from his best friend. "How unoriginal."

"Holy crap, Stiles!" Allison gushed, grabbing his arms and turning him 360 so she could get a good look at him. "You look amazing!"

"Why, thank you, Little Miss Don't Blink." He laughed, taking a sip of his drink. "I like the teeth."

"Thanks." She grinned, pointed teeth showing. "They make drinking nearly impossible."

"And making out." Scott complained, which made Stiles laugh and Allison roll her eyes. "What? I care about stuff like that."

"That's all you care about." Allison shot back, tone good natured. "I swear to god, I'm going to start rewarding good behaviour with kisses and train you like a puppy."

Scott didn't look too unhappy with that idea, shooting his fiancé a 'yes please' look and wiggling his eyebrows.

"Oh my god, I think I might need insulin because you two are so damn sweet." Stiles complained as he was grabbed from behind by a pair of blood soaked hands.

"Oh, if I kiss you, will you take my soul?" Erica purred into his ear, voice low and sexy. Stiles turned to face her, and gave her white eyes and dress a long look.

"I don't think you have a soul to steal… Lilith."

"Bingo!" She laughed, kissing him on the cheek. "Boy got it on the first try."

"I aim to please."

"I saw that," Erica smirked, "And so did your bartender boyfriend, from the look he's giving you – don't turn around – it's like he wants to eat you up."

Stiles raised an eyebrow and smirked. "All part of my cunning plan." He told her, before downing the rest of his drink and heading for the floor. "Lady Lilith, come dance with your King."

* * *

**_Happy Monday All!_**

**_I am unhappy to report that today was just as bad as last week at work, because all of our systems were down on Friday I've a whole day of catch-up to do. So BOO!_**

**_But YAY! For sexy-ass-Stiles and Shirtless-Derek-with-wings!_**

**_Tomorrow – as a special gift for Amanda (aka TheDreamerLady) I will be having a mini plot shift over to Angel!Isaac and his Devil!Danny to say 'Happy Birthday Amanda!' and also a big thank you for all the support you have given me as I write these stories. So… _**

**_Happy Birthday for tomorrow!_**

**_(Sam has his soul back, He seems okay about it, lots of hugs all around. Castiel still seems… odd… and I want to marry Dean. Still._**

**_Also, in Community, it is December 10_****_th_****_, and everyone got into a fight.)_**

**_Love you all, I'll try to write more tomorrow!_**


	11. Chapter 11

Danny was feeling… great. The mask he wore covered most of his face, but left his mouth free so he could still talk, drink and be merry. He'd picked it specifically. He'd wanted to remain unknown as much as he could – and the dark lighting in the club helped him stay in the shadows. Normally he'd be up on the floor, but not tonight. His mask and dark clothes made him feel a little… dangerous. He wanted to show that nice guy Danny could also be **_bad_**.

* * *

Isaac smiled and laughed and poured drinks, because it was his job to be the nice one. Derek had the broody man of the mountain thing going on, and Isaac had the happy-go-lucky thing working for him and he got good tips for it. He loved the wings, and the white chinos – they made him feel like he could wipe all the shit out of his past and be **_good_**.

* * *

Danny knew that Isaac would take his break after midnight, and would go through to the back room where the staff area was. Non-staff weren't allowed back there, but he had gone with Jackson plenty of times and he knew his way around. Isaac had seen him standing in the corner – had even given him one of those great wide smiles, all teeth and sparkling blue eyes – and Danny had simply tipped his drink in recognition. He wasn't sure if Isaac even knew who he was, which just went to show what a nice guy he actually was. Smiling at the loner in the crowd.

When Isaac left the bar and walked towards the back room, Danny waited a few moments and then followed him, walking past Angels aplenty – he was one of the only devils there – who gave him welcoming smiles. Normally Danny would stop and chat to those he recognised, but tonight he had a plan and he was sticking to it. He was going to prove a point. He could be bad.

* * *

Isaac got the feeling he was being followed as he walked through the crowd, which was kinda weird and also… kinda cool. When he turned his head, he saw the sexy masked Devil watching him, moving through the mass of people to follow behind him.

Isaac wasn't worried. The backrooms were well lit, and Lydia had installed security cameras everywhere – not only that, but he'd taken more than his share of self-defence classes after his father had… his mind refused to go back there. He'd taken classes, and if a guy in a cape thought he was going to get one over on him, he had another thing coming. Mainly, Isaacs fist to his face.

* * *

Danny knew that he only had a few seconds before the automated lock clicked into place after Isaac put his code in, and almost lost a finger in the door as he shoved his hand through before it shut. He waited a few more moments, and then carefully pulled the door open. Isaac wasn't there – which was good – and Danny slid through, letting the door click softly behind him.

The hallway was brightly lit, and had a few doors. The door to Lydia's office was open – damn – and he knew he wouldn't be able to pass without her noticing him. Figuring bad boys didn't ask for permission, he walked past her door only to hear her laughing.

"Oh, seriously?" She said, as he turned to face her, feeling a little stupid. "Do I need to tell you that there are cameras all over this place?" She said. "Danny, really? You had to follow him back here rather than just ask him out?"

"I'm… proving a point." Danny said, wondering if his plan was just stupid.

"Well, prove it in the back stock room where the camera is on the fritz." She grinned. "And good luck."

* * *

Isaac could hear Lydia talking – the wall muffling whatever she was saying – and she didn't sound angry, which meant whomever was following him knew her well enough to be back here without getting his balls ripped off. So punching him in the face would probably be a bad idea.

When the staffroom door opened and the Devil walked through, Isaac was sitting on the table, legs crossed, waiting. And… in the bright fluorescent lighting… he looked kind of familiar. Isaac felt a rush of… well… just a rush.

"Come with me." The devil said, voice low.

Rather than refusing, which he should probably do, Isaac went with his gut instinct that he knew this guy. There was something so familiar about him, and yet… with the mask and the eyeliner… it was impossible to tell.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Be quiet, Angel." He growled, and Isaac unfolded his legs, sliding off the table in an easy movement.

"I don't do what Devils tell me to do." Isaac informed the masked (where the hell did he know him from?) man, walking up to him and folding his arms across his naked chest.

"You'll do what I tell you or you'll regret it."

"I regret many things."

"You won't regret this." The Devil smirked. "Trust me."

* * *

Danny pulled Isaac into the back room, which was – really – nothing more than a janitor's closet, with some shelving units. As soon as Isaac stepped over the doorway, Danny felt himself lose his nerve. His plan had been to seduce Isaac, get him alone and show him just how **_bad_** he could be – but now that it came down to actually doing it… he didn't feel quite so confident. To hide his sudden indecision, he took a step forward and found himself chest to chest with the guy he'd been crushing on since senior year – the very **_shirtless_** guy he'd been crushing on.

"I'm an Angel." Isaac smiled.

"I'm not." Danny replied as the door shut behind them with a click – and walked forward, forcing Isaac against its flat surface.

"I can tell."

Rather than reply, which would just take up precious time that Danny knew Isaac didn't have a lot of, he leaned forward and kissed him.

He knew Isaac was expecting it – after all, he'd just followed him into the only place in the building without a camera – so as soon as Danny's lips touched his, Isaac kissed him back. Danny had thought about kissing Isaac for a long time, and never really did anything about it because he was… or at least, he had been… a bad boy. The dangerous one. The guy you couldn't bring home to mom and pop.

The kiss wasn't even trying to be chaste. Danny growled into Isaac's mouth, hands on pale skin, holding him against the door, fingers flexing into his hips that were grinding forward as Danny pushed his body against him.

Danny used his position to get his thigh between Isaacs legs, lips travelling down to the blonds neck as Isaac tipped his head back and moaned, the sound loud and erotic in the small room.

Danny felt a rush of power, knowing that Isaac was as affected by this as he was, and ran his hands freely over the paler skin that his 'outfit' exposed, and then reaching down between their bodies to cover the fly of Isaac's chinos – and the heavy bulge that they covered.

Isaac's head rolled back as he let out a hiss of pleasure, hips bucking forward into Danny's hand. "Don't start something you aren't going to finish." Isaac said on a breath, sounding nothing like the Angel he was dressed as.

"I'm not that kind of devil." Danny managed, palming Isaac through the material.

"I heard there was always some kind of deal with a devil."

Danny smiled against the hot skin of Isaac's neck. That was an idea he could use. "I'll make you a deal." He whispered, lips brushing over the shell of Isaacs ear.

"I don't make deals with strange Devils."

"Hear me out, Angel." Danny smirked, fingers working on the fly of the white chino trousers, causing Isaac to whine. "I can make you feel amazing." He whispered. "So good you'll beg me not to stop…" the zipper down, Danny pushed his hand under the waistband, and under the thick elastic of Isaac's boxer briefs. "Beg me to stop…" He repeated. "And all you have to do is one little thing…"

"What?" Isaac panted, as Danny wrapped his hand around the thick shaft, hot and throbbing.

"One day, a guy is going to ask you out." Danny said, "And you're going to say yes."

"Who?"

"You'll know him." Danny murmured. "Angel."

* * *

Isaac wasn't expecting the masked Devil to drop to his knees – and couldn't help the groan of pleasure that escaped his lips as the cool air of the supply closet hit his overheated skin. The Devil only pulled his pants and underwear down far enough to free his throbbing cock before his mouth was wrapped around the swollen head.

"Fuck." Isaac hissed, trying to stop the involuntary jerk of his hips forward into that wet embrace. The mask that the Devil was wearing left his mouth free, and it was all kinds of hot watching those deep dark eyes looking up at him as he watched.

Isaac had grown out of random guys a long time ago, but the thrill of possibly knowing this guy was… he choked out a groan as the Devil bobbed his head, taking more of his cock into the hot wetness of his mouth. Isaac was aware that he wasn't going to last long, the taboo of being at his work and not knowing who this was… He let out another groan; knees weak as the Devil hollowed his cheeks and sucked the entire length of him down.

There was a dull thud as his head hit the back of the door, hips twitching as he fisted his hands to stop from grabbing onto the back of the Devils head.

The Devil must have noticed, and he pulled off Isaac's dick with a pop that was obscenely loud in the small room. "Oh, Angel is trying to be so good." The Devil taunted, voice low and syrupy. "When all you want to do is…" he licked a wet trail over Isaac's weeping cockhead, "fuck my face till you come hard down my throat." The Devil, on his knees, lips swollen and wet, smirked up at him. "Is that what you want, Angel?"

"Yes." Isaac groaned, because damn, he'd had good blow jobs before, but this guy was going to kill him.

"Do you accept my deal?"

"Yes!" Isaac groaned, pulling the Devils head back towards his cock.

"Then do what you **_want_**."

Isaac held the devils head still as he canted his hips forward, filling his mouth with as much of his cock as he dared to push, then pulling back with a groan. The Devil looked up, dark eyes mocking as he brought his head forward to match Isaac's thrust in, swallowing his cock right to the root.

"Holy shit." Isaac whined, as the Devil swallowed, the muscles in his throat working around his cockhead.

* * *

Danny loved giving head – and combined with a very limited gag reflex, he was fucking good at them, which was why he'd decided to show Isaac what he could do before approaching the subject of a date. He knew the exact moment that Isaac lost control, holding his head tightly, fingers gripping as he fucked – thrusting in and out of Danny's mouth with a steady flow of groans and gasps. He was powerful, and Danny moaned his appreciation.

"Fuck." Isaac groaned. "Fuck." Before his thrusting became erratic and frantic.

When he came, it was directly down Danny's throat, and he swallowed and licked as much as he could before Isaac pulled him off and to his feet, slamming his back into the door that he'd only just been leaning on and kissing him hard, hands fisting in his hair, and Danny knew could taste his own cum in his mouth.

Danny could have stayed there all night, but he knew that his plan depended on getting out of the room before Isaac figured out who he was.

"Well, Angel," He grinned, pulling away as much as he could with Isaac holding him hard in place. "Remember our deal." His hand found the handle of the door and pulled – opening the door and escaping Isaac's grip.

The last thing he saw as he walked away was Isaac, wings dishevelled, soft cock hanging between his legs – looking utterly wreaked.

* * *

Isaac washed up in the small staff toilets and tried to get the 'just fucked' look off his face before going back out to the bar. He felt like everyone he saw knew what had just happened, could tell by his slightly crooked wings, the fact that he'd lost his halo in the stock cupboard and that he had a bruise forming on the side of his neck where his Devil had marked him good.

He didn't give a crap if they knew. He'd just gotten the best head of his life from a guy he didn't know, in a supply closet at his job. It was sleazy and hot as hell – and he'd told Isaac to fuck his face. Even thinking about it had his cock twitching, and he knew he was going to spend the rest of his life getting hard every single time he walked past the supply closet.

"Are you okay?" Derek asked, looking over at him.

"Yeah, I'm good." He nodded.

"You look like hell."

"Thanks." He grimaced. "I… um… yeah, no, I'm good." He wanted to tell Derek what had happened, but he'd only just really met the guy, and he liked him. He didn't want Derek to think he was the kind of guy who would do stuff like get a blow-job from some faceless dude on his lunch break.

Then again, the way Derek had spent the night looking at Stiles, he didn't think that he'd complain much if it was Stiles offering him a quickie.

* * *

Danny watched Isaac serve at the bar with a smile. He'd taken off the mask and cloak, and his black t-shirt, jeans, and heavy eyeliner made him look like he'd just lost his horns somewhere. Isaac though, looked utterly wreaked. Maybe if you didn't know what had just happened, he just looked busy, rushed off his feet – but Danny knew better. Knew by the way his eyes were still a little glazed, knew by the way he looked at every person who came up to the bar dressed in black like they were going to ask him something… Yeah, Danny felt pretty good, knowing that he'd done that.

Isaac had said once in High School that 'guys like him' didn't date guys like Danny. Too nice. Too good.

Danny hoped that his performance tonight changed that idea in his mind.

* * *

**_Happy Birthday Amanda!_******

**_Have some smutty Danny and Isaac! (Disaac? Isanny?)_**

**_Tomorrow is my birthday, so I may not be able to get a chapter out but I'll do my best!_**

**_(Oh, Sam passed out, I think he was back in hell for a bit, because he said it felt like a week but was only like a few moments. Also, when he was soulless he did a load of really horrible stuff and killed a guy who came back as a spider-person. There was a Lisa/Ben montage and a freaky mannequin episode that made me sad and scared at the same time. Dean is still bangable even when he's sad about leaving them)_**

**_LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH! _**

**_28 Tomorrow!_**

**_NOooooooOOOooooo…_**


	12. Chapter 12

Stiles was enjoying the party – enjoying it more because he knew that Hale was watching him as he danced. His suit was getting a lot of attention, and Stiles loved dressing up for parties. It was totally his **_thing_**.

He danced with Scott and Allison – they were probably the best people to go out with, because they were friends first and a couple second. He could trust them not to disappear into a dark corner and make out, or start an argument in the middle of the dance floor. When Erica got a boyfriend she had a habit of dropping her friends until it was over. Stiles hoped that he'd be more like Scott and Allison and make time for his friends.

Jungle was always busy right up until the last song played and the lights came up, groans and boo's from all around.

"We're going to head off home." Scott said, arm around Allison's shoulder. "You gonna walk with us?"

"I was gonna wait and get Hale home." Stiles shrugged, going for casual, probably missing it by a mile judging Allison's amused expression.

They left with the mass of people, Stiles got in line for the cloakroom and got his jacket – which didn't go with his outfit at all, so he just slung it over his shoulder and walked back into the brightly lit but empty club.

Hale was already out from behind the bar, collecting the forgotten plastic and glass bottles that were left around the place.

"Hey, Colin, do you mind if I stay here till you're ready to leave?" He called over, getting a smouldering look from Hale for his troubles.

* * *

Derek looked over at Stiles and tried not to grin. His hair was still sticking up, but it wasn't so much horns anymore as haywire. It looked like that sometimes after sex, when Derek had been running his hands through it.

"It's not Colin either, Stiles." He shot back, and almost immediately was bombarded with more names.

"Cole? Colson?" He paused. "Colton?"

"Nope." Derek smiled as Stiles sat himself down at a table and seemed happy to just wait for him. Derek never had anyone who seemed just happy to sit about doing nothing while he worked. He imagined it would be boring and expected Stiles to burst out any moment, but he just sat there.

Derek though, was worried about Isaac. He had been acting a little spaced all night, and had even gotten a few drinks orders wrong – something that he never did.

"You okay tonight?" He asked, handing over some glasses. "You look a little… off."

Isaac looked up at him and coloured. "Huh? No, I'm good. Just… long night, you know?"

"Yeah." Derek wasn't convinced.

"I'm good." He nodded. "Great. Just… you know. Good. Long night."

Derek was used to Stiles talking in broken sentences, but Isaac was normally pretty eloquent.

"Yeah, okay." Derek shrugged. He wanted to ask more, but he was worried that he'd overstepped his boundaries with the younger man. After all, it wasn't like they were friends or anything.

"Yeah. Did anyone… like… ask for me tonight?"

"I don't under-"

"Like, ask for me to serve them specially?"

Derek frowned. "I've not been taking your tips or anything."

"What?" Isaac asked, face blank, before he shook his head and smiled. "No, I mean did anyone want to be **_served_** by me specifically?"

Derek frowned. It wouldn't be hard to get served by Isaac, all a person would need to do would be to stand over at the far end of the bar and wait. Derek mostly stuck to the top end – it stopped them from tripping over each other. He shook his head, and saw the look of disappointment cross Isaac's face.

"Oh, okay. Thanks."

* * *

Stiles had brought his Jeep, and because he'd only had the one drink, he was okay to drive, but Hale refused to let him behind the wheel.

"If you get pulled over, or have an accident, you'll not have a leg to stand on. Give me your keys."

"Seriously?" Stiles laughed.

"Yes." Hale said, pulling the keys out of his unresisting hands.

"I do love a take control kind of man." Stiles smirked, "Although you might want to lose the halo and wings if you want to drive, because I'm pretty sure those will impair your vision – or at least increase the chances of you getting pulled over."

Getting Hale out of his wings was… fun. For Stiles. Not so much for Hale, because Stiles used the opportunity to ghost his hands over his exposed skin. There was a hoodie in the back of the car that Hale pulled on, throwing Stiles a dark look that was full of promise about what Hale was going to do when they got back to the apartment. Stiles couldn't wait. He was going to have some seriously athletic sex with this man. He was going to try out for the sex **_Olympics_**. The suit demanded it.

* * *

Derek drove back to Stiles apartment in silence. Although he knew that Stiles hadn't been drinking since his first rum and coke, he wasn't going to take any chances. When they got to the traffic lights where Hale had spoken to Stiles thinking he was Scott, he glanced over.

Stiles was sound asleep, mouth hanging open as he leaned against the frame of the door, the only thing keeping him upright was the seatbelt.

He smiled as the lights changed. So much for the meaningful looks then, he thought, before his mind caught up with him.

They weren't going to have sex. They were probably just going to strip off and climb into bed the way they were – the night still on their skin – and he didn't mind.

He didn't mind that they'd probably spend the night tangled up together because Stiles was right and spooning was awesome despite what Derek thought.

They'd probably not wake up till well after noon and then maybe Stiles would make breakfast and they'd either eat it on the couch playing computer games or they'd eat it in bed… and Derek couldn't think of any other relationship he'd been in where he'd been okay to do **_nothing_**.

He pulled in to Stiles allocated space and sat in the parked car for a moment, watching the steady breathing of the man beside him.

They'd only been together a week. A week. Derek couldn't even think how stupid he was being, moving so fast with a person who didn't even know his name.

He knew that if Laura was there, she'd be telling him to go slower, to remember that he could be hurt… take it easy, take a breath.

The only problem was, he didn't want to take it easy. He wanted forever, and he wanted it now, with this annoying, hyperactive guy who laughed too loudly and never said no to anyone if he could help.

Derek watched him for a few more moments before he reached forward and gave his shoulder a hard shake. He'd spent enough time with Stiles to know that once he was asleep a marching band couldn't get him to wake up.

"Fuck off." Stiles mumbled, trying to snuggle deeper into the cracked seat of the Jeep. Derek pushed him again, harder. "Seriously, Derek, I will rip your fucking arm off and beat you to death with the amputated limb."

Derek was impressed. Normally Stiles would only get as far as 'I will…' before his voice gave out and he was back asleep. Derek could hold whole conversations with him when he was asleep and Stiles knew nothing about them.

"We're home." Derek grinned. "Get up or I'll drag you upstairs by your hair."

"Leave me here." Stiles mumbled.

Derek laughed, and leaning over, unclipped the seatbelt – the only thing stopping Stiles from falling over. His sudden jerk woke him faster than anything Derek could have done, and he cursed and spluttered, eyes wide and pupils pinpoints as he looked around.

"Where are we?"

"Home." Derek shrugged. "You going to get yourself moving?"

"I'm going." Stiles nodded, hand seeking out the handle of the door and tumbling out, almost landing on his ass.

* * *

It wasn't until later, when Stiles had simply stripped off his suit and crawled into bed like a zombie, that Derek actually realised that he'd called him **_Derek_**.

* * *

Stiles woke up with his face buried into the back of Hale's neck, his arm feeling like a dead weight and a blurry memory that he'd fallen asleep in the car.

"Balls." He muttered, pulling away and using the arm he could move, felt his hair. Yup, it was sticking up and flattened, hard and sticky from sleeping in gel and too much hairspray.

Hale was still sleeping, which was a good thing, Stiles decided, when he looked in the bathroom mirror and saw the night before all over his face. Namely, the damn black eyeliner, which was **_everywhere_**.

Trust his luck, on the one night where he'd put so much thought into teasing and pushing Hale to his limits, Stiles had gone and passed out in the damn car like a teenager.

The shower took a few moments to heat up, but the blast of freezing water woke him faster than all the coffee in the world, he scrubbed his skin raw and needed to 'rinse and repeat' twice before his hair even **_started_** to feel clean. Next time he'd stick with plastic horns.

When he climbed out of the spray, he wiped the condensation off the mirror and let out a groan. The eyeliner had washed off. **_Mostly_**. Now he was left with two panda black eyes as well as a raw face from all the scrubbing. He was searching under the cabinet for the make-up remover he was sure he had left over from Halloween, when he heard Hale move around in the bedroom.

"There's enough hot water for you!" He called out, head still tucked under the sink.

"Okay." Hale nodded, and actually **_goosed_** him as he walked towards the shower. Stiles head smacked against the underside of the sink in shock. Hale wasn't the type of person who… goosed. Jesus, Stiles sometimes got the impression that if he even tried to pull something like that the death glare would be enough to reduce him to a pile of ashes. "Careful." Hale smirked, and Stiles would have glared at him if he hadn't just spotted the make-up remover.

* * *

He couldn't get it all off, and Derek only spent a few moments laughing at the faint dark line around his eyes. Honestly, Stiles didn't think it looked too bad. Man-liner was a thing. He could totally rock that.

They were eating on the couch, Stiles having just thrown some bacon and eggs in a pan and making 'breakfast sandwiches' while Hale was in the shower.

Sunday afternoons were the best, although Stiles still felt slightly guilty that their sex life had been quickly reduced to hasty fucks between their shifts. With Stiles working nights and Hale working days, they hardly saw each other. Which made Stiles super nervous about what he was going to ask.

"So…" He started, swallowing a huge bite down in a gulp. "My dad kinda invited you to dinner."

"Oh." Was all he said.

"Today." He really should have told Hale before this, given him enough time to plan a decent excuse at the very least, but his dad had sprung it on him last night on the phone and Stiles didn't know what to say other than I'll ask him, which meant that if he didn't, he was going to feel like shit.

"Will I be able to get to work on time?"

"Yeah." Stiles nodded. "You don't have to though, you know, we've only been together for like a week, it's just my dad, you know? He's super protective and I find it really hard to say no to him, and I must mention you a lot because he was pretty insistent, but I've not told him that you pretty much live here, because although you have a toothbrush that doesn't mean we've moved in together, that's just good dental hygiene and he's super supportive about the whole gay thing, and-"

"Take a breath." Hale cut him off. "As long as I get to work on time, I don't see why I shouldn't meet your dad."

* * *

Derek was already sweating when he pulled his car up to the drive and saw the police cruiser parked in front of the Jeep. He sat for a few moments in the safety of the Camaros leather seats before finally mustering up the courage to get out.

He was wearing his regular clothes, black jeans and a grey pullover (his work shirt was in the back of the car) and had even shaved – because he always thought that made a good impression. He wished that he could have spoken to Laura, who probably wouldn't have approved of meeting the parents after dating a week, but at least she'd be able to calm him down a little. He'd brought a pie (store bought) with him, and it balanced in his hands as he walked towards the brightly lit porch.

The door swung open and Stiles was suddenly there, looking utterly frazzled, hair sticking up in every direction and pupils pin pricks in the light, phone glued to his ear.

"Fuck." He said, looking at Derek, as his mobile – stashed in his jeans pocket, started to ring. "Fuck you're here." He said, looking like he wanted the world to open up and swallow him. "Fuck."

"Is something wrong?" Derek asked, wondering if perhaps he should have called ahead. He was right on time, Stiles told him to arrive at 4 and it was (going by the GPS in the car) 3.55pm which showed good time management and punctuality (he hoped).

"No." Stiles said. "Yes. Kind of." He wrung his hands and looked behind him, shutting the door slightly. "Look, my dad's had a pretty rough few days at work, and he's… um… he's had a couple to help him relax."

Derek felt his stomach hit the floor. He'd used that excuse so many times before – with so many people, for Laura. Almost those exact words. He wondered just how many times Stiles had said the same thing to his friends. "It's not a big deal, you know?" Stiles said, "I just wanted to warn you." His laugh was forced. "But you're right on time! So… hey. Is that pie?"

"Yes." Derek nodded, feeling like perhaps he should just turn around and let Stiles make an excuse as to why Derek couldn't make it. But there was something in Stiles expression that made Derek want to protect him a little. Be there for him. "Are we going inside?"

* * *

"So, Derek." John Stilinski said, looking at him with bloodshot eyes, but keeping his voice steady. "How long have you been in town?"

"Just about 4 months." He replied, aware that Stiles was holding onto his cutlery like his life depended on it. Perhaps if he hadn't gotten so used to seeing the signs in Laura he probably wouldn't have even known that Stiles father had been drinking. Well, aside from the smell, which was strong and cheap – Hunters Helper was popular with Laura – and the slight tremors in his hands. Stiles was wound tight enough to snap.

"And why Tardis?" The older man asked, eyes fixed on him like a target.

"It was one of the only places hiring." Derek said, trying to maintain eye contact without becoming challenging.

"And now you work at Jungle?"

"Yes, sir." He looked down at his plate – which was take-out and not what he was expecting at all – and took a bite.

"Lydia is doing pretty good for herself." Stiles cut in. "She's still dating Jackson though, dad, you remember Jackson? He was a total ass to me in School. Captain of the Lacrosse team, thought he ran the world – I totally think she could do better." Stiles carried on. "Did you hear about her place in Fresno? It got awarded 'The Best Night Out' in the local paper. She was pretty stoked about that. Good publicity never hurt-"

"Stiles said you have a sister?"

"I do, sir, Laura." Derek nodded. "She's at a retreat right now." He added, wondering if Stiles had mentioned Laura's drinking habit.

"Huh." He said, looking down at his plate like he was seeing it for the first time. He looked at his glass, water – probably put there by Stiles – and glared at it. "I'd offer you a drink, but we've nothing stronger than soda at the moment." He said, looking darkly at his son.

"I don't drink anyway." Derek shrugged. Drinking never had any appeal to him once he'd seen what it did to his sister. "Soda is fine."

"So, Derek totally has to get to work soon." Stiles said, cutting over the sudden deafening silence that had fallen between them all as they ate. "Don't you?"

Derek nodded. He still had a couple of hours, actually, but he could tell that Stiles was close to having a heart attack, and Derek didn't want him to feel like he was overstaying his welcome.

* * *

Stiles was almost in tears when Derek had arrived, and the mess he'd found his dad in hadn't helped. He'd had to throw out whatever his dad had prepared, because he'd walked into the house and found it reeking of smoke and his dad swaying over the stove unsteadily. So Stiles had gotten take-out and poured the last of the whiskey down the drain. And then his dad had started yelling about how he wasn't a child and he could look after himself… and the fact that Derek was going to be arriving any moment slipped his mind until he tried to phone him and he was _right there_.

Dinner was worse though, as his dad sat bleary eye'd and forgetful across the table.

Stiles was mortified.

Derek had told him about Laura and her drinking issues, how useless he'd felt, and now Stiles had just invited him to meet his dad – who was drunk as a lord and probably Derek was thinking about his sister and how much he really didn't need to go through something like that with Stiles and…. God. Could he just die on the spot?

"He's older than you." His dad pointed out when Derek pulled away and Stiles wondered if he was ever going to see him again. "I don't like him."

"Well, dad, I doubt he'll ever want to talk to me again after this disaster, so I don't think you need to worry about that!" Stiles snapped, turning and facing his father. "You knew he was coming! You could just lay off the drink for one fucking day?" He yelled, frustration making him angry.

"you listen here!" His dad started, but Stiles waved him off.

"No! You listen!" He snapped. "I really liked this guy. A lot. And you knew it! You were so drunk you nearly burned the damn house down. You couldn't even string together a proper sentence." Stiles felt like he was going to throw up he was so frustrated, bitter disappointment in his throat. "You promised me you'd cut back."

"I have!" His father snapped, "And don't you take that tone of voice with me, Stiles, you seem to have forgotten who the adult in this relationship is."

"Well it sure as hell isn't you!" Stiles roared, grabbing his keys and heading for the door. "You know what, see if I care. Go ahead and drink till you can't fucking see straight." He hissed, and slammed the door behind him as he stormed out of the house.

* * *

Scott came over to the apartment when Stiles called him in tears. After a brief conversation about what had happened, they were now doing the most masculine thing they could about it – they were ignoring it and playing StarWars: The Old Republic on their laptops and bitching about work, whilst eating pizza and a massive bowlful of M&M's. At the same time.

"I don't see why I can't get jiggy with Corso." Stiles complained pressing keys with one hand and grabbing at a slice of pizza with the other. "Sucks."

"Well, you do get to bone every **_other_** sentient species in the galaxy." Scott pointed out. "Jack Harkness of the Alliance, smugglers are."

"Yeah." Stiles agreed, chewing slowly. "Do you think he'll even bother to call, or do you think he'll just ignore me for life?" Stiles asked, not able to keep his attention away from the cesspit of his life.

"I think he'll be perfectly cool and laid back." Scott said, grabbing some M&M's and chewing them at the same time as the pizza in his mouth. "He seems to like you a lot."

"I really fucking liked him, Scott." Stiles wailed, "He's sarcastic and can put up with me for ages, and when he smiles he's fucking adorable and… he's just really nice."

"Stiles, you don't even know yet, so don't freak out, okay?"

"That's easy for you to say, Mr-I've-Got-A-Ring-And-A-Plan in the corner – watch out for the stun! – who's got a girl somehow convinced that you're the best she's ever gonna get, what about me?"

"What about you?" Scott laughed. "You're awesome. Everyone likes you, everyone you know thinks you're some kind of crazy fucker, you're popular, you're good looking – you want to make out a little?"

Stiles laughed till his sides hurt, because back in High School whenever Scott did something Stiles deemed awesome, he'd always follow it up with an offer to make out. They'd actually done it once, drunk and on a dare – and it **_wasn't_** awesome. Stiles was putting the blame on Scott, who only had Allison's assurances that he didn't suck at making out, where as everyone Stiles had ever dated told him that his mouth was one of the best things about him.

They played and ate and laughed until Scott got the phone call from Allison reminding him that it was only Stiles who was working a night shift on Monday, and 2am was late enough.

"At least I don't have a curfew." Stiles sighed, as Scott logged out.

"Yeah." Scott grumbled. "Although… it's kinda nice you know, that she remembers how fired I'll be if they catch me sleeping at my desk again."

"True." Stiles nodded, although once Scott had left, the apartment seemed empty and… a little lonely.

* * *

Derek hated Sunday nights at Jungle because they were slow, very few people actually came out – the ones that did weren't tippers – and once you combined a 3am finish with a 9am start at Tardis, he was always utterly fucked by mid-afternoon, relying on coffee and sugar to keep him going.

Added to that, the disaster that was dinner and he had the perfect storm.

"You okay, dude?" Isaac asked, eyes darting over the few people that were in the large room. "You seem stressed. More than usual."

"I met Stiles dad tonight." Derek shrugged, trying not to make it sound like too much of a big deal, but missing by a long shot going by the expression on Isaac's face.

"No way?" He exclaimed. "Damn! You guys must be like… pretty serious then, huh?"

"I guess." Derek shrugged. "It didn't go down to well, I think."

"You've got to know the sheriff, dude." Isaac said, shaking his head. "Seriously, when I first met him he was a total hard ass, you know? Then you get to know him and he's fucking awesome. He helped me out so much, after… well… you know, after… and made sure that I was okay for years after it all blew over." He smiled. "So don't worry, you know? He's a good guy, and he dotes on Stiles."

"He seemed…" Derek didn't want to say drunk, but he couldn't think of another way of describing it. "Stressed."

"Yeah. I keep thinking it's a small town, but since Tardis moved here, there's been loads of new people and housing put up, and he's still working with the same amount of staff he had when we were all in kindergarten, you know?" Isaac shook his head. "I mean… seriously, when I was a kid there weren't all the apartment blocks or the housing complexes at **_all_**. There was the School, the main street, the Hospital and the vets, and that was it. We didn't even have a cinema, you had to drive for ages to do anything." He paused. "And the police station still only has like… a handful of guys and the fire station is still mostly run by volunteers, so I think the Sheriff gets a pretty hard time."

"That was probably it." Derek nodded, keeping the drinking to himself. "It might just have been me." He added. "I'll talk to Stiles about it later."

* * *

Later, it turned out, didn't happen, because he'd taken his car to work from Stiles fathers, and needed to drop it back at his own building – which he'd pretty much vacated since meeting Stiles – and there was thick letter waiting for him when he opened the door, amongst all the fliers and bills.

Laura had written to him, and he'd been so caught up with Stiles he'd not even checked to see. He couldn't even think of the last time he'd paid attention to the piles of letters gathering behind the door as he rushed in and out getting what he needed before heading off to Stiles' place.

He sat down on the edge of his bed and opened the letter, at least 10 pages of her neat script, and started to read.

The next thing he knew, his alarm was screaming in his ear. He'd not even made it to the second page before falling asleep and now he only had an hour to get to work or he was screwed. He grabbed his phone and typed a hasty message to Stiles before jumping in the shower.

**_Sorry. At my place. Need to sort through stuf here._**

* * *

Stiles read the message and let out a sound probably only understood by whales.

**_Sorry. _**

Sure he was sorry. Sorry for blowing Stiles off.

**_At my place_**.

Congratulating himself on getting the fuck out of dodge before the shit actually hit the fan.

**_Need to sort through stuf here._**

Because Stiles and his fucking shitty life had reminded him of everything bad he was trying to move on with, and probably brought back loads of shit he didn't want to deal with.

Stiles stuffed his head into the pillow and let out another whine. His life sucked balls.

* * *

_**I spent a lot of time doing nothing since I turned 28. So far I've spent toom much money and wrote a short story for Supernatural. I've played computer games and... didn't even think once about this. Now, of course, I feel uber guilty about not updating, but...**_

_**Here you go.**_

_**I'll write more tomorrow, with a nice long authors note, but right now, I'm all typed out!**_

_**Love you!**_


	13. Chapter 13

Derek unlocked the door and let himself into Stiles apartment, eyes heavy and utterly exhausted. Mondays were the worst day of his week – working late on a Sunday night and early on a Monday morning resulted in a headache and bone tiredness that he just couldn't shake.

Stiles had given him a key because… well because he was insane, and Derek had taken it because… well.. apparently he was insane as well.

"It's just me!" He called out, locking the door behind him.

Stiles crashed out of the living room and stood in the hallway, looking at him with bleary eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like?" He shrugged, dropping his bag at his feet. "I brought some clothes because I'm going to bed and I'm not moving until tomorrow morning." He looked at Stiles, who was still staring at him like he expected him to disappear. "What? Something wrong?"

"No." Stiles shook his head so hard Derek wondered if it was about to fall off. "No, I just… I didn't think you'd be coming back."

"Why?" He said, looking around. "Did something happen?"

"No." Stiles mumbled. "I just thought after dinner that maybe… you know."

"You've lost me." He admitted, feeling a bit forward bring more clothes over. Maybe Stiles was regretting giving him the key? Maybe the dinner was so bad that Stiles figured that Derek wasn't really what he wanted?

"No, its… forget it." He grinned. "You look like hell, Conner."

Derek stopped mid-way reaching for his bag and looked up. "Stiles, you know my name."

"No I don't."

"Yes, you do." He said. "Your dad knew my name, you called me-"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Stiles yelled, covering his ears like a child. "We have a cute, adorable couple-y thing that I'm not going to let you ruin."

"_Stiles_."

"Conrad."

"**_Stiles_**."

"Cooper."

"Stop it."

* * *

Stiles threw a quick omelette together while Hale put on the soft cotton pants that he'd brought with him in the large duffle. Because Stiles life was fucking awesome and he totally had a boyfriend and it was **_awesome_**. Many awesomes.

"I put in for working the night shift at Tardis." Hale said, sitting at the small table and looking like a poster-boy for every single one of Stiles wet dreams as a teenager. "Mondays are killing me. I could do a swing shift on Friday so I'd get some sleep before working, but I can't go another 2 weeks like this."

"You do look like shit." Stiles agreed, plating up the food. "Well, as shit as anyone with your abs can look."

"Thanks." Hale said, and Stiles knew he wasn't talking about the compliment, but the food. He didn't take compliments well. His ears tended to go a little pink and Stiles couldn't understand how a guy who looked like he'd knife you in the heart for the change in your pockets could look so damn cute sometimes. "Sorry about dinner." He mumbled, sitting opposite Hale and feeling crazy overdressed in his shirt and suit pants.

"I like omelettes." Hale replied, mouth full. "And I'm sleeping for the rest of the day, so anyth-"

"I meant with my dad." Stiles said, eyes fixed on the plate in front of him. "Sorry."

"It's okay." Hale shrugged. "I know how it can be."

"I just thought… you know… that you'd be pissed or something because… I don't know. Everything."

"S'fine." Hale said around a mouthful of egg. "But you have to tell me how you know my name."

"Corbin?"

"Stiles, quit it."

"Fine." He sighed. "I was doing Jackson's paperwork and he had all the week end reports, and your name was on them. And Erica. And Isaac." He laughed. "Seriously, it was like everyone was saying 'Oh, you're dating Derek Hale?' and I couldn't close my ears."

"So why keep it up?"

He shrugged, knowing that the truth would sound pathetic. It was there thing. It was how he'd first gotten to talk to him, on the phones, flirted with him and how he'd managed to stand out to Hale. He was worried that if he stopped, Derek might lose interest. Which was stupid. But he'd been worried.

"You're an idiot." Derek yawned.

"Possibly."

* * *

Derek woke up to the sound of Stiles opening the apartment door. A quick glance at the glowing clock showed it was only just past midnight, far too early for Stiles to return.

"Did something happen?" He called, climbing out of bed quickly, kicking covers off his body. "Are you okay?"

He stumbled to the door, hitting the light on as he went, and tripping over the duffle he'd left lying in the middle of the floor. Just managing to save himself from landing head first through the bedroom door, Derek found himself standing in the middle of the empty hallway.

"Stiles?" He called out, looking to see if he'd already gotten to the kitchen, but the house was empty.

He checked the door, which was locked, and frowned as he walked back to bed. He was so fucking exhausted he was starting to hear things.

* * *

Stiles got home about 6am, and found Derek already awake, sitting on the couch and playing CoD campaign mode. The lights were off and the drapes still closed. He hadn't changed out of his pyjama pants.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." Derek nodded, pausing the game and throwing the controller on the couch. "You?"

"Yeah." Stiles shrugged. "Work was work." He didn't mention the weird figures that were cropping up in the call logs he was totalling for Jackson (who had managed to get miles behind since Friday – Stiles wondered if he spent his days playing Farmville or something) and that as per Lydia's suggestion he was keeping copies of all the paperwork he submitted. "Have I ever told you it's actually super-hot that you're a big gamer nerd?"

"I'm not a gamer nerd." Derek said, shaking his head. "It was just there."

"Whatever. Hot." Stiles grinned, "You know what else is hot?"

"I'm sure you're going to tell me."

"Sofa sex. Sofa sex is seriously hot." He paused. "But you've got work in a couple of hours so…"

Derek grinned and grabbed his arm, pulling him down heavily onto the couch beside him. "I've got **_plenty_** of time before work." He grinned, voice dropping a few octaves lower than normal. Fuck, Stiles **_loved_** his sex voice.

Derek hands were already working on his shirt when Stiles straddled him – loving the fact that Hale was wearing nothing but a thin pair of bottoms. His thighs were hard and muscular – the result of the brutal home workouts he did and a daily run. It just didn't make sense that a guy like him would manage to get a chance with a dude looking like Derek Hale. But hey, he wasn't going to start complaining, especially not when Derek pushed his white shirt over his shoulders and kissed him deeply.

Kissing Derek was awesome, Stiles thought as he gripped the other man's bare shoulders and sighed into his mouth. Derek wasn't in any kind of rush, taking his time and exploring Stiles upper body, licking and nipping until Stiles was breathing shallowly and palming his cock through his work pants.

"I could totally get used to this. You should take the day off." He mumbled, as Derek turned and pushed his back into the soft cushions of the couch, manoeuvring his larger body between Stiles legs and rocking his hips against Stiles. He could feel Derek, hard and hot through his thin bottoms and let out a moan. "Seriously, I'm not kidding. Keep this up and you're calling in sick."

"I'm not ill."

"Dude, if I have my way, you won't be able to **_walk_**, never mind work."

"Promise?"

Stiles groaned as Derek licked and nipped up his neck, pushing their still covered cocks against each other. "Trust me." He managed, slipping a hand under the elasticated waist of the thin bottoms Derek wore and gently gripping his cock, fingers flexing around his width. Derek groaned, head pressed into Stiles shoulder as Stiles slowly teased him, using a thumb to collect the drops of pre-cum that formed with a swipe. Derek was breathing heavily but evenly, head still pushed into Stiles shoulder as his body tensed and flexed with every teasing touch.

"How long do you think you could keep this up?" Stiles murmured, voice low. "How long do you think you'd be able to last? Half an hour? **_Longer_**?" He smirked, changing his grip and gave a long, hard pull that caused Derek to buck into his hand and groan loudly, teeth scraping across Stiles shoulder. "Or would you end up snapping? Fuck me into the floor? Or face first into the wall?" With every suggestion he let his hand gently tug or twist around Hales cock, wet and smooth with the amount of pre-cum that was beading on the tip. "Would you be gentle? Or," He used two fingers to grip the base of Derek's cock and squeezed slightly. "Would you fuck me open like an animal?"

Derek's teeth were on the hard muscle of Stiles shoulder now, as the older man tried to keep control. "Bend me over the couch and fuck my face?" He whispered, "Or shove your cock so far up my ass I'd never be able to forget it?" Stiles was smirking now, as Derek trembled, muscles tensed so hard he felt like he was about to shatter. "Make me **_beg_**?"

That, it seemed, was where Derek found his limit, because his whole body jerked – teeth biting hard enough into Stiles shoulder to make him call out – before he found himself face first on the floor.

Derek's hands were everywhere all at once, gripping his hips with almost painful strength. Stiles, pressed into the floor, managing the get a hand under his body and unbutton the waist of his pants, pushing the zipper down as far as he could reach before Hale hauled his pants down as far as he knees with a growl.

For a blind moment, Stiles panicked, because rough sex was fucking great, if there was prep and lube – otherwise it just hurt like hell – but it only lasted a moment before he felt Derek root around on the couch where he had been sitting.

"Did you fucking plan this?" Stiles gasped, as Derek pulled a bottle of lube and a pack of condoms out of thin air.

"Maybe." A slightly wrecked sounding voice said, as the lid clicked open – Stiles was expecting it to be cold, but they had obviously been laying on the bottle, because it was warmer – and Stiles let out a moan as Derek's wet finger pushed against the tight hole of his ass, breathing heavy and trying to relax.

Derek wasn't taking his time, but was making sure that Stiles was ready as best he could. "Fuck." Stiles groaned, as the two fingers curled inside of him, looking for his prostate. "Fuck, please." He gasped, bucking into the carpet. "Derek, please."

Dimly, in the back of his mind, he put the information that Derek really liked being begged when he was ramped up (something he could use to his advantage) but when the head of his cock pushed against Stiles hole, he let out a whine of need.

"Fuck," Derek growled, pushing further in – stretching Stiles out with a slow burn. "You're so fucking tight."

Stiles felt every inch push inside him, imagined he could feel every single vein as Derek bottomed out with a strangled groan.

There was a time and a place for slow sex, and pressed into the carpet wasn't one of them – Stiles rocked his hips with meaning and let out a moan. "So you gonna show me how much of a man you are?" Stiles smirked. "Or are you too much of a-" He never managed to finish his sentence, because Derek pulled out completely with a slight pop, put more lube on his dick and slammed back into Stiles with so much force he was crushed into the floor.

Fucking **_right_**.

It took a few minutes for Derek to get the angel just right – and about that long for Stiles to stop choking on air with every hard thrust – but when he tilted his hips and his cock pushed hard and fast over Stiles prostate, he saw stars.

"Jesus fuck!" Stiles let out, as his body raced ahead of him, balls tight and cock dribbling onto the carpet. "Derek!" He moaned, "Fuck, Derek…" He said, pushing back to match each hard slam of Derek's hips, their skin slapping obscenely as they rutted like animals. He wasn't able to get his hands anywhere near his cock, his body pressed hard into the floor but he came hard and fast, letting out a yell and Derek's name as spasms rocked his body, then a whimper of pain as the fibres of the carpet scraped over his over sensitive skin.

Derek pulled out, and lifted him onto the couch bending him over the cushions and holding him in place as he used his free hand to guide himself back inside Stiles. His movements were getting jerky and uneven, his breath loud as he fucked Stiles hard into the couch.

Suddenly, Stiles felt both hands on his hips, pulling him back to meet each thrust, faster and harder until Derek let out a feral growl and shuddered against him, thrusting weakly until he stopped moving at all, his chest plastered to Stiles back, sweat on their skin making them slide.

"Fuck." Derek muttered, pressing an open mouthed kiss to Stiles shoulder. "You okay?"

"Can I come home to this every day?" Stiles said, weakly, grinning.

* * *

**_Duration: 5 mins_**

**_Name: Sup. Whittimore_**

**_Reason For Call: IT dept. sickday. Poss. 24 hour bug. _**

* * *

**_Happy Tuesday, have some smut._**

**_I apparently gave you all some feels yesterday, so I'm sorry :( _**

**_I wanted to make up for it, so I thought I'd write some Sexy Sterek as way of an apology, like a 'Kiss and make up after a fight' type of thing. Hope it worked. _**

**_Started training in earnest for the MoonWalk, so expect to read about my adventures in trying to become fit and a better person (and probably nearer the time, asking you to shout out and spread the word so we can meet our donation goals!)_**

**_Currently undoing all my good work by eating a packet of crisps (smokey bacon!) and a big bag of malteasers. NOM!_**

**_In other news: Balthazar doesn't like Billy Zane and un-sunk the Titanic. Ellen was there! For sure I now think something is wrong with Castiel because dude is officially being shifty as fuck. I do not like. _**

**_In fact, I do not like a lot about this season, which sucks, because Season 5 was EPIC. I don't like bad guy Cas. I like In-Love-With-Dean-Cas._**

**_I also watched The French Mistake expecting it to be my fave episode of the season (I've seen so many gifs!) but actually was just like.. meh. _**

**_Balthazar is pretty sassy though. I like him._**

**_Not as much as Gabriel though (PLEASE BRING HIM BACK. PLEASE. PLEASE!)_**

**_Anyways, better go._**

**_Enjoy! Let me know what you think of this chapter (or just say Hi!)_**


	14. Chapter 14

Stiles was sprawled over his side of the bed and sleeping so soundly that Derek wondered if the fire alarm would wake him. Derek was exhausted, which didn't make sense the length of time he'd been sleeping the day before, but his… sex **_marathon_** with Stiles had taken its toll. They'd had sex on the floor, the couch, against the wall and (at which point Derek thought his body was about to kill him) lazy handjobs on the bed.

They'd tried to share a shower – never again – and Stiles was crashed out with a towel still wrapped around him before Derek had even managed to get to the bedroom.

Derek had forgotten that Stiles had been at work all day before they'd started, and felt a little guilty when he'd walked in and saw the pale (not so pale now, with bruises forming on his white skin) body sound asleep.

Derek though, couldn't close his eyes. His body was exhausted, but his mind was wide awake, so he leaned down and pulled his duffle towards the bed – grabbing Laura's letter and a notepad.

_Hey Lolly,_ _I didn't get your letter till yesterday – sorry._ _I'm glad to hear that you're painting again – if you can, why don't you send me a few sketches? I could put them up on my desk at work, you know? It's been a long time since you were drawing._ _You don't ever need to say you're sorry to me. I love you. I know it wasn't easy and no – I'm not making excuses! I don't know how you did it and you're the strongest, best person I know. _ _Things are good here, thanks for asking. I'm __kinda seeing __dating this guy. He's called Stiles, and I think you'd really like him. I didn't mention him before, but I __really__ like him. He's dorky and __cute__ funny. I keep thinking you'd tell me to slow down, but he's a bit like a hurricane and just sweeps me along. I'm staying at his place. _ _I want to move in with him, but then I'm worried he'll think I'm __that__ guy an__ I just think he's cool. I want you to like him. _ _I met his dad. I think he's got trouble with drink. Maybe when you come here, after your retreat, you might talk to him? Share the stuff you learned? Maybe you could take him to your meetings. I looked around. There are three different meetings on three different nights, so you might find one that you feel comfortable with. _ _I'm still working at Jungle, yeah. I like it. Isaac does sound pretty interesting, I think you'd like him too. You probably would want to paint him or something, he's got that whole cheekbone thing you like to draw going on. _ _There is a market here on Sundays. We went and had a look around, loads of fresh food and handcrafts. Maybe when you get here you could try setting up a stall for your art? __Get some commissions.__ Only if you want to though._ _Stiles is a supervisor at Tardis (it still sucks, by the way) but he works nights so it's pretty hard to get any time with him. I've asked to change to the night shift – not just because of him! – because working two full shifts in a row was killing me between Jungle on Sundays and Tardis on Mondays. Stiles thinks it'd be a good idea, although he did say that the money was better during the day because you get more calls. _ _It's a little hard to think you'll be here so soon! Weeks now, not months. I'm still in the smaller apartment, but I've been looking at sofa beds…_

* * *

Stiles woke up hurting and feeling like he'd been wrung out twice and put away wet. Which was pretty much exactly what happened. He could hear the steady scrape of a pen over paper, and when he twisted his head to get a look. Derek was sitting up, leaning against the headboard, writing what looked like War and Peace.

"I didn't think you were an author." Stiles mumbled, checking the time. Still ages to go before he had to force himself to work. Oh, the joys!

"I'm writing to Laura." Derek said, eyes not leaving the page. "I'll be finished soon."

"Take your time, I think I might be paralysed."

"I think you probably weren't up for round 4 as you liked to admit." Derek smirked.

"Shut up. I rocked your world."

"You did."

"I did?"

"Yes."

"Damn." He grinned. "I **_am_** good." He rolled over, back to Derek, and let out a contented sigh. "I am never leaving this bed."

"I told Jackson I'd be resting all day." Derek said. "I can't believe you convinced me to call in sick."

"I can't believe you were able to hold me against a fucking wall." Stiles shrugged, yawning. "We're both impressive in different fields." He paused. "Speaking of fields – outside. We need outside sex and car sex."

"Not in the Jeep." Derek shuddered.

"What the hell is wrong with my baby?"

"My car has a bigger back seat."

"Point taken." Stiles grinned, letting out another yawn and a stretch, which caused his overused muscles to twitch and complain. "Oooft." He let out, "I think you might have broken me."

"I broke you?" Derek scoffed. "I'm not a damn teenager. I think I might have done my back in."

"I'm not the one who thought it was a good idea to fuck me up against the wall."

"I think you were."

Stiles paused, thinking back. "Yeah, I think I was. Sorry."

"It's not every day I get my world rocked. I'll forgive you this time."

Stiles laughed, and rolled out of bed, bare feet padding on the floor as he grabbed a pair of jeans that were laying on the floor. "I thought you weren't ever leaving bed." Derek said, looking up from his writing.

"That was the plan, and then I remembered." He smirked. "Food. So much food requires to be eaten. I'm thinking Dominos."

* * *

They ate it while playing Mario Kart. Derek's ribs hurt from laughing and at one point he was sure Stiles might have actually inhaled a jalapeño he was laughing so hard. Derek, who'd never taken a fake sick day in his life, couldn't imagine spending a better day off – and he found himself wondering if it would be like this if they managed to get their work schedules to match. Would they spend hours just doing nothing in their pyjama pants, eating pizza and playing video games – and was a little worried at just how much he wanted that.

"So… I was thinking." Stiles said, after a while. "You know I've got this 2nd bedroom that costs a fortune and you've got a place you really aren't using…"

"Are you asking me to move in with you?"

"I'm asking if you'd like to be my roommate, not offering for your hand." Stiles cut in. "And you've already got a key and a toothbrush."

"I've known you for 2 weeks."

"It was just a suggestion."

"I'd need to give a months' notice to my landlord." Derek found himself saying. "How much is the rent?"

* * *

Stiles sat at his desk and frowned. There was something seriously wrong with Jackson's end of day report and he just couldn't work out what it was. The numbers were right, the calls all tallied up… but there was something about the totals that didn't make sense. It was almost $2500 out.

It wasn't a lot, compared to the amount that they made through the day, but there was two and a half grand missing from the logs and Stiles was damned sure he wasn't going to let Jackson take the fall for some wonky numbers.

**_Dude, Stiles. End of Day Repts r off. ?_**

He text Jackson, printing off the figures and doing it the old fashioned way with a pen and calculator. He was almost glad he had something like this to occupy his mind other than the fact that he'd just asked Derek to move in with him after only knowing him for a week. Was he making a serious mistake? Fuck.

His phone buzzed beside him as he sat on the floor. **_All figures come through finance, Lydia sys chk formula? J_**

It took him almost four hours of pure concentration till he found it. The money was there, but it was being routed through the Drainer's – customer relations and complaints - figures pulling through from another part of the report – and merging through the IT and Payroll books.

Stiles blinked, and checked again.

The workbook had locked sections, so that each manager could input the end of day figures in for their own department without affecting any other team – put in place because years ago a manager accidentally deleted the entire years' worth of Drainer pension payments while he pressed the wrong key.

So the formulas used were not able to be changed by anyone without permission from higher up the food chain.

And there was a formula in there that was wrong.

Stiles frowned. First thing, he printed off another copy, made his scrawling notes neater, and then typed it all up in an email.

It wasn't just $2500 from the Droners, it was accumulating from **_all_** departments, and it was all being put into a separate section that Stiles passcode wouldn't let him into.

He sent the email to Fowler, head of Finance, and filed the email and notes on his PC, smiling to himself. He'd probably just saved Jacksons job, as well as 10's of thousands of dollars for Tardis. He was **_so_** getting employee of the month.

Once he was finished, he picked up all the paperwork he'd had scattered all over his floor and desk and almost threw it away, until he remembered Lydia and her insistence to keep a copy of everything. She probably didn't mean his own notes, but he shuffled them into order and stapled them together, threw them in a spare binder and took them to the filing cabinet he'd been using down the hall because his were bursting at the seams.

He filed it along with everything else he'd been doing and felt a little stupid for thinking it might be necessary – after all, he was working in a low level management job in a town he'd lived in all his life.

Nothing ever happened in Beacon Hills.

* * *

**_Shorter chapter today because if it was legal to own a gun in this country today would have seen me plastered all over the news as the girl who shot up her entire work place 'just so she could work in peace'. There would be a little picture of me, covered in the blood of my office workers, sitting at my computer, typing away._**

**_What is going on with Tardis, huh? Some weird crap..._**

**_Of course, I actually know (kinda) being the writer, but I do like to tease._**

**_I'll write more tomorrow._**

**_Let me know how you're doing!_**

**_-Robyn_**


	15. Chapter 15

Stiles ended up doing all of Jacksons paperwork as well as his own, cleared his desk and left a note detailing the issues he'd found on the end of day reports.

He answered a few calls – nothing serious, and easily solved, and when he jumped back into his jeep at the end of the shift he felt like he'd been productive if nothing else.

* * *

When he got home, Derek was sleeping. Stiles grinned at his relaxed face, snuffly and cute as hell. This was his boyfriend. His boyfriend who was going to be moving in with him. Soon. Like… a real live in boyfriend.

Stiles wasn't panicking, although he probably should be.

He was going way to fast, but then… Derek was awesome. They were awesome. Stiles hadn't met anyone aside from Scott who could put up with him for long, but Derek seemed to think his constant rambling and 'quirks' were cool. He wanted to just… keep him forever.

It wasn't the first time that Stiles had felt this way about a person, the mad, heady rush of a new person and a new relationship, but it was the first time that he'd felt secure and confident that he was doing the right thing. Derek had something about him that Stiles felt would work with him in the long haul. He was funny, he liked computer games, he worked out and went running when Stiles did his own thing and didn't seem to feel… weird. Nothing with him was weird, or awkward.

Stiles changed out of his work clothes and left Derek sleeping, heading to the kitchen and cleaning up as quietly as he could. Derek had already tidied up the pizza boxes, and taken the trash out, so Stiles wiped and washed the counter tops, mopped the floor and let it air dry while he moved into the living room.

He had a routine, but it looked like Derek had his own as well, because the place was already cleaned and even vacuumed (something Scott never did when they were room-mates) and he'd even tried to put the consoles away neatly.

Sweet. Although his bedroom was a mess, he didn't like the rest of the house looking like he was a frat boy living away from home for the first time, and it looked like Derek was cut from the same cloth.

He was making breakfast when he heard Derek's alarm go off, had the bacon in the pan when the hot water surged through the pipes when he stepped into the shower, and was spooning the scrambled eggs onto a plate when Derek came through to the kitchen, dressed for work and looking… well… looking better than the food Stiles was starving for.

"You look hot in a shirt." He grinned, putting the plate in front of him as Derek sat.

"You don't need to make breakfast, you know." He muttered, looking at him. "I don't like the idea of you coming back and having to cook."

"Dude, I'm starving." Stiles grinned. "If you don't want it, I'll happily eat your share."

"Never mind." Derek frowned, pulling his plate closer. "It's okay."

* * *

Derek got the customary 'back to work' interview, done by the supervisor. Who was Jackson. Who was also his Boss. And his other bosses' boyfriend.

"So, you had a 24 hour bug?" He asked, looking down at the folder before him.

"Yeah." Derek said. "Feel better now."

"You didn't look ill at Jungle."

"It came on pretty sudden."

"It must have." Jackson smirked. Derek wondered just how fired he would get if he punched him in the jaw. "Luckily for you, I'm feeling pretty lenient today, because a certain person we both know has pretty much saved my ass here, so the least I can do is let his boyfriend pull a sickie so he can get laid." He paused. "And if you hurt him, I'll fire your ass – and you'd be lucky if that's all **_Lydia_** would do to you."

"I'm not going to hurt anyone." Derek found himself growling. Who the fuck did this guy think he was?

"Yeah, well, make sure you don't. That will be all." He said, giving a dismissive nod towards the door.

Derek bristled, but left without saying anything. Jackson knew he'd faked being ill just so he could stay at home with Stiles, and he had done him a favour, but Derek **_hated_** that smug superior look he'd thrown at him.

"Yo!" Erica waved, throwing a peace sign at him as he walked past the rows of Droners on headsets. Curious faces turned to watch him as he walked, Scott waved sleepily.

"Who's that?"

"Hottie Hale from the IT Dungeon."

"He's just my type."

"Fuck me."

"Doubtful darling, he's dating Stiles."

"What, **_our_** Stiles?"

"How many other Stiles do you know?"

"Damn."

"Nice ass though."

"Such a waste."

"Hale from the Dungeon?"

"So I heard. He's gay."

"Shame."

"Tell me about it, girl."

"You know what they say, the good ones are either married or gay…"

The whispered conversations drifted past his ears as he passed the rows. He couldn't imagine a worst place to work, they were crammed into little booths, rows and rows of people just sitting looking at the 'Say it with a Smile' posters or their flickering monitors.

At least down in the IT department he was able to personalise his work space a little. No one ever bothered them in the basement – or the Dungeon, as they called it. By the time he got to the elevator, he'd walked past nearly a hundred people had voiced their opinions on his ass, his jaw, his eyebrows and his sexuality – some trying to be subtle, others just talking like he wasn't even there.

He'd never been so pleased to have those metal doors close in his life, and let out a sigh as the piped music played, overlaid with the overly bright female voice telling him about the many benefits of working for Tardis. Apparently privacy wasn't one of them, if you were dating a Droner. A former Droner. Whatever.

* * *

Stiles was still asleep when Derek got home, so he did his P90X and went for a run – the weather was still mild and the park was busy despite it being almost 6pm. The run helped him clear his mind, and he remembered to mail the letter he'd written to Laura. He'd put Stiles address at the bottom as well, because… well because he knew that by the time he got another letter he'd probably have started to move his stuff to Stiles place.

His letter was longer than expected, because he was always better at writing down what he was thinking or feeling than he was talking about it. Laura thought it was adorable.

So while he ran he thought about Stiles, and just how great everything was. He couldn't help that he was waiting for the next shoe to drop, kept thinking that something terrible was going to happen, but… there wasn't a thing he could think of.

* * *

Stiles woke up to an empty house and a note pinned to the fridge:

Gone running – D

Which said everything it needed to. Stiles 'Notes' tended to be about 4 pages long, which kind of defeated the point.

He pulled out a frozen pizza and turned on the oven, humming to himself as he removed all the packaging. He heard the door open, and called out.

"I'm making pizza, take a shower!"

He waited for an answer, and when all he got was silence, he frowned. "I swear to God, Hale, if you're running so much that you can't even talk at the end of it, you need to slow it down, dude." He paused, hearing nothing. "Derek? Are you dead?"

He popped his head around the kitchen door and looked down the empty hallway. "Derek?"

Because Stiles was the son of the local sheriff and slightly paranoid at heart, he searched the entire apartment and checked the door locks before he shrugged it off and put the pizza in the oven. "If I'm being haunted, I want you to know, I've seen every episode of Supernatural, and I'm not afraid to break out the salt!" He told the empty room.

* * *

Derek got an email on Friday confirming that his request to be moved to nightshift had been approved. He'd be working 9pm till 5am Monday to Thursday, and on Fridays he had the noon till 7pm shift, all signed off and approved by Fowler up in the wages and finance department.

He resisted the urge to punch the air with relief. He was going to get more time with Stiles and a slightly less hectic work schedule.

Things were starting to come together.

* * *

Things were getting really fucking weird for Stiles, as he logged onto his work PC. There was some glitch in the system that was showing some emails as 'read' when he'd never seen them, and some kind of virus had completely wiped his sent items – and to make it worse, his passcode wasn't working when he tried to log on.

"Dude, it you tell me to turn it off I'm going to hit the roof." He complained down the line. "Can you just reset my passcode and find out what the hell is going on with my emails?"

There was some furious typing down the line, as Boyd – unhappy to be working a Friday night – hammered at his keyboard. "Looks like your passcode is already re-set, it's the basic 'Tardis123' so you just change it once you log on."

"I didn't ask for my passcode to be changed!"

"It went through this morning at 8am."

"I was at **_home_** at 8!" Stiles pointed out. "This is crap, Boyd. These systems are so outdated it's ridiculous."

"Preaching to the choir." Boyd laughed. "You think they've got us on some awesome hardware down here? Don't make me laugh. This computer was a fucking toaster before they hooked it up to a monitor."

Stiles laughed and logged in using the 'Tardis123' that all new starts were given. He tried to think of something he'd remember with ease and finally settled on 'Sabriel69' and smirked because it was pretty much impossible to guess that, really. Most people just used their own names or something boring.

"I've got no clue what's going on with your emails, dude, it just looks like you've deleted them."

"Is there a backup?"

"Yeah. I'll see what I can do. Probably take a few weeks though, to get everything back."

"You're a lifesaver."

"Whatever, tell Erica to stop ignoring my calls."

"What happened that she's ignoring you now?"

"Same old."

"Sweet. I'll talk to her, I think we've got a tourney planned for tomorrow."

"I'll look into the backup for you."

**_Duration:_** 15 mins

**_Name:_** Sup. Stilinski

**_Reason For Call:_** IT-ErR InBx & PCrst.

* * *

"Are you going to be pissed at me if I spend my weekend in my underwear playing computer games?" Stiles asked him, looking up from where he was sprawled over the bed. "I'm feeling seriously lazy."

"Nope." Derek shrugged, kicking off his boots and sitting beside him as he stripped. "Are you going to bitch if I don't shower and come to bed stinking like a gay bar?"

"That's like my favourite smell in the whole word." Stiles yawned. "Gay boys and booze."

"Freak."

"You say that like it's a bad thing, Hale." Stiles smirked, rolling over onto his back and watching as Derek pulled off his jeans. "Seriously? No shimmy? No sexy strip tease?" He grinned. "I'm disappointed and hurt. Wounded."

"Shut up, Stiles." He laughed, climbing under the blankets.

"Yeah, like that's a possibility." Stiles scoffed, instantly rolling into his back and spooning. Within a few moments, his breathing had evened out, and Derek was lulled to sleep by the steady breathing and warmth surrounding him.

* * *

"Headshot!" Scott bemoaned down the line. "These kids are fucking **_slaughtering_** us."

"Erica, where the hell are you?"

"Pinned down across at castle, so fuck you both."

"Seriously? It's like playing with children."

"Shut up, Jackson." Three voices said together.

"I'm starving." Stiles announced. "After this, I'm getting pizza delivered."

"Oooh! I'll come over." Scott insisted. "Get a meat feast."

"Get a half and half, veg supreme." Erica said, "I'm on my way."

"Are you serious?" Jackson said. "Get me a chicken supreme with stuffed crust."

"Who the hell do you think is paying for this?"

* * *

**_Gonna hv brkfst wth Isaac._** Derek text, grabbing his coat and pulling it on. After only a few seconds the phone vibrated in his hand.

**_Brng him. Pty ours! Sct, Ali, Erca, Jksn &Dnny hre. Pizza n stff. Grb dip?_**

"Isaac, do you want to come back to Stiles place? He's got pizza and stuff, apparently."

"I don't think he'd appreciate me showing up." Isaac said, shaking his head.

"He told me to invite you." Derek pointed out. "Looks like it's some kind of party, from what he said."

"If you're sure."

"I am."

"Okay." Isaac smiled, warm and honest. Derek nodded back, praying that it wasn't an actual party that he was walking back into, because he really didn't want to face another couple of hours of loud music and drunks.

* * *

Stiles idea of a party, it turned out, was a group of people watching Superhero movies and bitching about who they'd rather sleep with. Derek and Isaac, loaded with as much 'party food' as the 7/11 had stocked, walked into a living room full of sprawled out adults and pizza boxes – an argument going on over who played the Hulk better.

"Hey Isaac!" Erica grinned, waving at a space beside her. "Ruffalo versus Norton?"

"Norton." He replied almost instantly, which got an instant reaction from the room. Derek hid a smile. They were like kids at a sleepover, hyped up on sugar and junk food.

"No fucking way," Stiles said around a slice of pizza. "Man, Mark was epic. 'Puny God!'" He motioned, punching Scott in the arm.

"Well, the movie was better, but that was down to the director." This got a round of nods and agreements. Derek wasn't sure where he should go. There wasn't any space in the small room that wasn't already taken up by another person. He hid his sudden indecision by going into the kitchen and grabbing a can of soda. "Get me one!" Stiles called, followed by a chorus of the same.

He picked up the case and walked through. Stiles waved him over, and he had to climb over Scott to get to him. "Scoot." He motioned, and Stiles simply leaned forward, making just enough space for Derek to climb behind him and settle. Stiles wriggled until he was seated between his legs, grabbed a can of soda and leaned against him. "Science bro's are totally judging you, Isaac." He said, "Tony and Bruce are there. Judging your cinematic choices."

"I liked Norton too." Danny said, smiling at the curly headed blond.

"Shocker." Jackson muttered, getting an elbow to the rib for his trouble.

"Shut up!" Allison frowned, looking at the TV. "Hawkeye is coming up."

"You're obsessed with him."

"Archery is a skill." She shot back. "He's skilled."

"Helps that he's hot," Erica agreed, "Doesn't it?"

"Doesn't hurt." Allison laughed, and for the first time in a very long time, Derek didn't feel out of place or awkward in a group of people he hardly knew. He was comfortable and happy and Stiles was holding his hand.

Not bad at all.

* * *

_**Sorry for not putting a chapter up last night. I was just totally shattered, needed a early night. **_

_**Here, have some slight plot progression and writing. **_

_**My goal this weekend includes playing SWtOR, eating my body weight in junk food and listening to music so loud that my ears bleed. Headphones rock. **_

_**I've watched no Supernatural. **_

_**I had a dream I was in Vancouver (never been, irl) I went to a casino, and I won $50 million. **_

_**I bought a lottery ticket, just incase it was a sign. **_

_**If I win, I'm going to build a massive fucking house and invite everyone over for a party. You get an invite. YOU get and invite! And you! And you! Everyone gets an invite. **_

_**If I win. **_

_**If not... I'll just keep working at my crappy job and living with my mum. :s**_


	16. Chapter 16

"Sure thing, Corbin."

"Stiles, just take the damn call." Derek grumbled on the other end of the line.

"Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

"You would know."

"**_Nice_**."

**_Duration: _**15 mins

**_Name: _**IT Hale

**_Reason For Call: _** – . !

* * *

"Are you phone stalking me?"

"Possibly." Stiles laughed, and Derek grinned despite himself. "But Gail called in sick so it's just me on the phones."

"King of the Droners."

"Ha. Better than being stuck down in the Dungeon."

"Pass the damn call."

"Sure thing, Cory."

"Stiles!"

**_Duration: _**10 mins

**_Name: _**Sup. Stilinski

**_Reason For Call: _**HD-issue-Craig?

* * *

"I'm getting all packed up." Stiles said, powering down the PC. His emails were still on the fritz, so he'd spent the night printing off anything that he thought he needed. So much for a 'paperless' office that they were always going on about, he was pretty sure the amount he'd printed off was a small rainforest.

However, he had managed to get everything worked out from the weekend, and Derek was still almost flirting on the phone… so Stiles was going to call this day a win.

"Same here."

"Meet you in the parking lot?"

"Deal."

**_Duration_**: Under 1 min

**_Name_**: Sup Stilinski

**_Reason For Call_**: EOD Line Chk.

* * *

"This was a great idea." Stiles was smiling. "Like, the best idea you've had all week." He looked up at the menu pinned to the wall and smiled brightly at the waitress. "I'll have a Gut Buster."

"Some things never change." She shrugged at him, "I don't know why I even bother asking."

"Mrs King!" Stiles laughed, clutching at his chest. "Why must you wound me so?"

"Because you've been coming in here since you were this high," She waved her hand down at her knee. "And all you've **_ever_** ordered is the largest thing on the menu."

"But I'm a growing boy!"

"That you are." She looked at Derek and frowned. "And you?"

"Toast." She nodded once and Derek looked over at Stiles once the formidable woman stalked away. "Don't piss off the waitress, Stiles. She'll spit in your eggs."

Stiles laughed loudly and winked. "She's like… an old friend of my moms, she loves me really."

"Sounds like it."

The diner was empty, probably just opened at this time of the morning when the streets were deserted and the sun was only starting to creep over the town. Derek found he actually loved these moments, the quiet start to everyone's day. He'd planned to just drive right back to Stiles place, but the sounds of Stiles stomach growling as he pulled out of the Tardis parking lot were distracting, so he'd pulled up at King's Diner and ordered breakfast.

It should have been worrying, he **_should_** be stressed out and panicking.

He was living with a guy he'd only known for 3 weeks. He was planning on moving in with him officially. He'd already informed his landlord that he was terminating his contract.

It really wasn't a good idea for him to be moving in with Stiles.

And yet…

He just couldn't find it in him to say no. He was happy, and for the first time since Laura checked herself in to rehab, he didn't feel like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. He had friends – **_lots_** of friends, apparently, because he'd given Isaac his mobile number and now Erica, Scott, Allison and Jackson had it – and he was being sent 'group' texts about going to Jungle on Saturday night. He slept better with Stiles wrapped around him – despite the occasional kicks and punches in his sleep – and he just felt… great. Amazing. He looked over at Stiles and the only word he could think of was **_'Awesome'_**.

* * *

Stiles put his hand on the handle of the door and felt it swing open under his touch. "Did I forget to lock the door?" He asked, mind racing through everything that he'd done before leaving.

"I don't think so." Derek frowned, pushing Stiles behind him and walking through the doorway. Like Stiles needed to be protected. Which was **_not_** super-hot, despite what his brain was screaming at him.

Jesus, they'd been robbed.

His TV! His laptop! His comic collection!

Stiles bolted past Derek as he ran to the living room and found… well… everything. Nothing had been touched. Everything was still there, and nothing had been moved, or disturbed at all.

Derek was stalking through the apartment, checking everything – even looking under the beds and in the closets.

"I must have forgotten to lock the door." Stiles sighed, looking at the keys in his hand. "We **_were_** running late."

"Fucking lucky." Derek growled from somewhere in the kitchen. "Just check around and make sure everything is here. Do you keep money?"

"Yes." Stiles nodded. "In the **_bank_** like **_normal_** people." Derek's head popped around the door of the kitchen and he glared.

"I'm just making sure."

"I forgot to lock the door." Stiles said. "And we've not been robbed."

* * *

Derek did his P90x and then went out, sweaty and looking like sex on a stick, for a run. The instant he closed the door behind him, Stiles ripped the apartment apart. He didn't think they'd been robbed, but he clearly remembered locking the damn door that morning because he remembered getting his finger caught in the key ring and almost ripping his nail off. He **_remembered_**.

He worked his way through the house, lifting the couch, moving the TV, checking under the sink in the kitchen and even pulling out the stove. There wasn't a thing out of place.

In the closet in the spare room, the one that Scott had lived in before he'd moved across the street, he found the box he kept all his documents in. His birth certificate, EMT certification, high school diploma and pretty much anything he thought he should keep.

When he opened it, just to check, the first thing he noticed was that there were more papers in there than he remembered. He picked up the first stack and frowned, eyes flicking over the details.

* * *

When Derek got back, Stiles was on the phone, looking slightly stressed and not really paying him any attention. Derek grabbed a glass of water, downed it in one, and headed for the shower.

"I would fucking know, Lydia, if I'd taken this stuff home with me." Stiles was arguing, and if he was bitching to Lydia – Derek didn't want to be involved. He was pretty sure she was a dangerous woman.

"Yeah, well I **_did_** take your advice, and I **_do_** keep it at work." Stiles was saying. "I'm not a **_complete_** fucking moron, Martin!"

Derek winced and shut the bathroom door. The last thing he needed was his boyfriend and his boss yelling at each other at 8am in the morning.

He let the hot water wash over his skin for a few moments before scrubbing hard. Over the sound of the water, he heard Stiles open the door.

"I'm going to head over to Lydia's house." He said. "I'll be back later okay?"

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just… put it down to me being paranoid; I just want to check a few things with her."

"Are you sure everything is okay?" Derek frowned, wiping his face and putting his head around the shower curtain. Stiles was still wearing his work clothes and looked frazzled.

"Yeah. Just…" He shrugged. "Just go to bed and I'll be back later."

* * *

"Okay, so tell me what I'm looking at." Lydia said, sitting at her kitchen table. Her house… well… Stiles sometimes forgot that Lydia was probably the richest person he'd ever met. The house was massive, with a pool and well maintained gardens. Her kitchen was decorated pale green and white, with wood panelling and a solid oak table that probably cost more than his apartment.

"It looks like the end of year report." Stiles said, handing over the papers. "With the dodgy formulas in place."

"And these?" She held up the papers that he'd thrown on the table as soon as he'd arrived.

"The locked finance pages, and fucking **_bank_** statements!"

"In your name?"

"YES!" He yelled. "What the fuck, Lydia?" He ran a hand through his hair, knowing that it was already standing on end, David Tenant style. "What the fuck? I don't have this kind of money. It's millions!"

"Yes." He nodded, eyes going over everything carefully. "It really is." She paused, glancing up at him. "You said you remembered locking the door?"

"Yes." He nodded. "I'm sure. Like… I **_know_** I did."

"Where do you keep your keys?"

"In my desk at work."

"Locked?"

"No, Lydia, it's not the fucking FBI, I keep them in a drawer along with my candy stash." He bit out. "I'm being set up."

"Looks like it." Lydia nodded, eyes going back over the papers. "This is pretty bad, Stiles." He pointed out. "This here looks like you've been able to access the locked folders and you've been skimming funds from the commission sheets."

"I'm fucked."

"You are." She agreed. "Well… you **_would_** have been, if you hadn't found these."

"What fucking difference does it make that I've found them? All this shit is in my name!"

"Sometimes I think you forget that you're **_not_** an idiot." She sighed, handing him back a sheet with banking information on it. "All of this is in your name."

Stiles looked at the paper blankly for a few moments before she sighed. "Jesus, Stilinski – stop acting like a damsel in distress and start acting like the devious little shit I know you are. You're a sneaky, backhanding son-of-a-bitch and you've got all this stuff in **_your_** name."

Stiles stared at the papers in his hand while his mind started spinning. Faster and faster, until he couldn't keep up with it.

He was the smartest person who never got to collage, and Lydia was only a few steps away from being a mafia kingpin, and together, they were probably the worst pair of scheming deviants Beacon Hills High ever had. They never got caught though, because only **_amateurs_** got caught. He looked up at Lydia as lightening shot through his mind. Oh, who ever had tried to set him up was going to get a fucking **_fright_**.

"It's in my name." He said.

"It is." She grinned.

"It's technically mine."

"It is."

"Such a bad idea, really."

"It was." She laughed. "Millions of dollars in a bank account you were never supposed to know about."

"Until it was too late." He smirked.

"Idiots."

"Idiots." He agreed. "I need a few things."

"O captain, My captain." Lydia laughed. "Poor fuckers tried to mess with the wrong evil genius."

* * *

Derek was woken up to the sound of Stiles opening the door, keys jangling as he swung them around his finger. "Time is it?" He mumbled, as the mattress shifted.

"Just after 12." Stiles said. "Go back to sleep."

"Did you get whatever it was sorted?"

"I did." The mattress shifted again and Stiles was pressed into his back, warm and solid. "Go back to sleep."

* * *

Isaac worked during the day at the local animal shelter. His job was actually a pretty good one – he got to play with the animals, feed them, take them for walks if they needed it, and cover the desk at the front. He'd gotten the job years ago, with help from the Sheriff. When his dad had been killed, a lot of people thought it had been Isaac and very few people wanted him around. He looked like trouble – and he was treated like an outcast. It was round about that time Erica and him became friends, and round about the time he'd gone through a serious case of 'fuck you' to the world around him.

He'd calmed down now though, lived a relatively quiet life in the house that had once belonged to his mother and father. He'd changed a lot of things. The basement, for example, had a heavy padlock on the door and his father's room was a home gym.

He was in the back when he heard the bell over the door ring, and he carefully put the fluffy kitten back with his brothers and sisters. "You stay there, Tentoo." He whispered, closing the cage and getting to his feet. He worked pretty much all the time, which was the only reason that his house wasn't over-run with rescue pets. He didn't have the time to dedicate.

"Hi, welcome to Hope Animal San-" he started, only to have his voice trail off as he saw who was standing at the desk, looking tanned and bright. "Danny." He grinned. "Hey."

"Hey." Danny nodded, looking around. "I didn't know you worked here."

"Yeah, yeah, I do." Isaac stammered, before clearing his throat. "How can I help?"

"I'm looking to adopt."

"That's great." Isaac enthused. "Are you looking for a cat, a dog? Something more exotic?"

"Well… I've got enough free time for a dog, I guess. I just thought I'd have a look and see."

"Why don't you come around the back and I'll talk you through some of the checks we do, and see if anyone catches your eye?"

"Sounds great." Danny smiled, and Isaac felt the usual tug in his gut whenever he saw Danny smile like that. Open and honest and so damn **_nice_** that it almost hurt.

* * *

"This is Tabby." He said, leaning down by the cage. "She came to us a few weeks ago, quiet heavily pregnant. The kittens are up for adoption soon. Right now, we're making sure they are weaned off their mother before we start allowing people to take them home."

"Is it hard to find homes for them?"

"Kittens and puppies go fastest. People are always looking for those. It's the older pets that we have trouble with. A lot of people think that pets who are brought here had something wrong with them, or they just aren't cute enough."

"Do you have any?"

"I'd have them all if I thought I'd get away with it." Isaac admitted. "But I work here during the day, and Jungle at night, so I'm pretty much never at home."

"Who names them?" Danny asked, nodding his head towards the cage filled with mewling kittens.

"Oh, mostly they come here with names." He supplied. "But I get to name the new-borns."

"Rose? Pond? Tentoo?" Danny read out the names on the sheet pinned to the cage. "River and Doctor?"

"I live in a town where the largest employer is called Tardis." He pointed out.

"Understandable." Danny laughed, white teeth flashing. "You said you've got dogs too?"

"Out the back." Isaac nodded, "Follow me."

* * *

Pepper was a large mix breed with a tail that wagged so hard Danny thought she was trying to take off. She was a little shy, but her tail was showing her obvious excitement at getting some attention.

"Her owners moved out of town, and couldn't take her with them. She gets along great with other dogs and cats, but we'd suggest that she was supervised around children as she can jump up, and that might scare them." Isaac was telling him. Danny nodded.

"Well, I doubt I'm going to have kids anytime soon." He grinned. "So I don't see that being an issue."

"There are some forms you need to fill in, and a house check, to ensure that you've got enough space for a dog of this size."

"You know where I live." Danny replied. "In fact, why don't you come over tonight, before your shift at Jungle, and we can look over these forms and get the check done at the same time."

"It's not normally me that does the checks." Isaac said, looking slightly disappointed.

"Well, I'm sure you can make an exception, **_Angel_**." He smiled, and the look on Isaac's face was priceless.

"You?" He asked, voice high. "At Jungle?"

"You made a deal, if you remember."

"What time do you want me there?"

"What time do you get off?" Danny smiled, and was rewarded with a smile so bright, he thought the sun must have just come up.

* * *

When the '_get out of the house now or you'll be late'_ alarm went off, Stiles was on his knees in the hallway, Derek's cock heavy on his tongue.

"You are fucking kidding me?" Derek groaned, as Stiles hollowed his cheeks and sucked the entire length of Derek's cock deep into his mouth. "This is why – fuck – you don't start shit like this when we're on the way out of the door!"

Stiles hummed an agreement – sending vibrations down Derek's spit slick cock and causing his head to hit against the wall. The head of his cock was pressing against the back of Stiles throat as he swallowed, tongue working and pulsing against the underside as he sucked.

Derek had a sudden flash to the future, never being on time, always showing up late to everything – sticky and boneless and grinning like idiots. "Fuck," He groaned. "We're going to be late for work."

Stiles pulled away, the sound of Derek's cock popping out of his mouth obscene and sexy as hell. "If you want, I can stop." He smirked, a trail of spit still connecting the angry red head of his cock to Stiles lips.

"I didn't say that." He pointed out, pulling at Stiles hair, pulling his fucking amazing mouth back where it belonged.

* * *

Stiles logged in with seconds to spare and an aching jaw, but damn, the look on Derek's face when he'd relaxed his throat enough to take his cock as deep into his mouth as he could, was worth the possible speeding ticket he'd faced trying to get them to work on time.

He grinned at the memory, his own cock hard and untouched.

"Later." Derek promised, eyes dark.

And, fuck, but that was a promise he knew how to keep.

* * *

**_Happy Monday!_**

**_Have 3k worth of Chapter and some Danny/Isaac and some plot and some devious Lydia. _**

**_Who says I'm not good to you?_**

**_Weekend was kinda dull, ended up not doing anything I had planned, just sat about and did some crochet – because I'm hardcore like that. _**

**_I watched a film called Rocknrolla – really liked it, although I'm not very fond of the director. Ed Hardy though, was gay and lusting after Gerard Butler, which was my OTP for that film FOR SURE, and it was CANNON!_**

**_I wrote a super depressing Destiel-ish ficlet at under 1000 words – I'm not sure if I should post it up here just to get some feed-back from the Supernatural readers as I do plan on writing more Sabriel / Destiel in the future._**

**_I might._**

**_Looks like we have confirmation that Season 3 is going to have Stiles and Derek as Allies! This is great news for us Sterek shippers, because Bromance is just as good as Romance and can develop more in later seasons. So YAY!_**

**_The Q&A's that Teen Wolf are putting out are really great, but I do think that they can be a little misleading and taken the wrong way. _**

**_Also there was a Supernatural convention and Richard Speight Jr. (Gabriel!) was there. The things I would do to that man…. _**

**_Anyways…_**

**_Love you loads as always, thanks for the feedback, and hope you all had a good weekend!_**


	17. Chapter 17

Derek noticed something was up with Isaac almost as soon as he saw him. His eyes were overly bright, like he was running a fever, and he looked like he was about to pass out with exhaustion.

"Are you okay?" He asked, not sure if the younger man would appreciate his interference.

"Yeah, I'm great." Isaac grinned, teeth flashing in the bright lighting. "Better than great."

"You look like you haven't slept in a week."

"I don't think I have." The blond headed man replied, grinning widely. "So, you know how I work at the shelter?"

"Yes."

"Well, Tuesday, okay? Danny comes in looking for a dog." He paused. "He didn't know I worked there."

"Okay." Derek kind of thought he saw where this was going, but could tell that Isaac wanted to relay the whole event to him. He wiped down the bartop and nodded. "And?"

"Okay, so he's looking for a dog, and you have to do these checks before we just let you take an animal – yeah? – so I tell him this, and he asks me over to his place to do a check, and fill out the forms."

Derek saw exactly where this was going. Erica would be pleased, she'd apparently been trying to get Danny and Isaac together for a while, going on her texts. "So I told him that it wasn't normally me who did the checks, but Brian, who does them, he was cool with me checking out his place, you know?"

"Yeah." Derek nodded, spraying the counter with cleaning product. "How'd that go?"

"It was great." Isaac enthused, almost bouncing up on the balls of his feet. "Danny teaches kindergarten, did you know that?"

"No."

"Yeah. I mean, how great is that? Anyway, I go to his house, and he's made dinner and… well… he's got a nice place." Isaac blushed. "For the dog."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah, nice big yard and near a park." He paused. "Um… he made dinner. He's a really good cook, you know? And we got talking, and it turns out we've got loads in common."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Isaac nodded. "Um, we both like music. And food. And animals."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah! So… after dinner, you know, I went home and everything, and I gave him my number, because he might need a contact at the shelter, and um… yeah, he called me the next day."

"What happened?"

"Well, um, he wanted to spend some time with Pepper, she's the dog he's adopting, so he hung out at the shelter after his class left, and we took her for walk in the park. It was really good." He looked so dreamy Derek wondered if he was possibly on drugs. "And then we grabbed something to eat, just sat in the park and let Pepper run around, it was great."

"He sounds like a good guy to adopt a pet." Derek supplied, when Isaac seemed to lose focus, staring into space.

"What? Oh, yeah! He's a really nice guy, you know? Like really **_nice_**." He frowned. "Everyone knows Danny is nice. He was like the poster boy for nice at school, and now he teaches little kids, so… he's nice."

"And you aren't?"

"I'm… well, I'm not about to win 'upstanding citizen of the year' if you know what I mean."

"I don't know. You work at an animal shelter and feed kittens with a bottle." Derek pointed out.

"That's what Danny said!" Isaac laughed. "He, um, he told me he wasn't so nice, anyway." Isaac said, blush turning his ears and neck a bright red. "Um, so…" He stopped, and then laughed. "I don't know why I'm nervous about telling you, fuck!" He said, running a hand over his face. "We're kinda dating."

"I figured."

"Yeah. He's really…"

"Nice?"

"**_Yeah_**."

* * *

Two weeks passed and nothing exciting or overly interesting happened in their lives, with the exception of Danny and Isaac dating – which resulted in Isaac being a more permanent figure in Stiles group of friends rather than someone you'd just stop and chat too if you bumped into him.

Stiles also got the feeling that Derek maybe didn't have a lot of friends because he was really awkward at first. It was easy to see that Isaac looked up to him like a big brother though, and after their shifts at Jungle they'd often just hang out at the diner getting something to eat, or go back to Isaac's place. Derek was impressed that Isaac had a home gym, and Isaac was impressed that Derek managed to keep in shape without one. They went running together at 7am every day, Derek after his shift at Tardis, Isaac before he started at the shelter.

Stiles had, at first, been a little resentful that Derek was hanging out with Isaac – interested in boys, Isaac, with the hair and the teeth and the cheekbones – but once he'd caught up with his brain and slapped himself for being an idiot, he realised that Isaac wasn't trying to steal his man.

Two weeks. They settled into a pretty easy, seamless routine. Derek had packed up his apartment, was **_technically_** living in the spare room, but all his stuff was crammed into Stiles closet, and he only ever slept in Stiles bed – which was now 'their' bed and 'their' apartment.

"You're still seeing him, then?" His dad said, as Stiles sat down on Sunday night, already angry that his dad had been drinking.

"Yes." He said, voice sharp with barely controlled anger. "What did you think was going to happen?"

"I told you I disapprove." The words weren't slurred, but Stiles knew he was drunk. "He's too old for you."

"He's 5 years older than me." Stiles shot back. "You were 8 years younger than mom, so don't act like it's a big deal."

"Don't compare this to what your mother and I had." The venom thick in his voice. "Your mother was a good person!"

"He's a good person!"

"Did you know his uncle set fires for insurance money?" His dad shot back. "People died! He's cut from the same cloth as that!"

"Did you know his parents died in one of those fires?" Stiles said, voice cold and flat. "His **_parents_**. He was 16 years old. So if you think he was somehow involved, please, tell me. I'm paying attention."

"Don't take that tone with me."

"What tone? You're drunk all the time, you stink like a brewery, you can hardly stand! Do you have any idea what it felt like bringing him here to have you act like a fucking alcoholic?" He yelled. "Jesus, dad, you're a **_mess_**. Mom would be ashamed."

They didn't get much further with that conversation, Stiles hoping that his harsh words would snap his dad out of whatever was going on with him, but all it seemed to do was make him madder.

Stiles didn't stay for dinner, and as he drove back to his apartment, felt like the worst son in the world. He loved his dad, loved him more than anything, but he didn't know what to do or say to get him to realise that he was drinking too much – and he always ended up saying or doing the wrong thing. Normally both.

* * *

A month passed, and the tension between Stiles and his dad had gotten so bad that – for the first time since he moved out – Stiles had Sunday dinner at his own apartment. Derek felt like crap, because although Stiles argued that it had nothing to do with their relationship, Derek knew that it wasn't helping. Stiles dad didn't like him.

_Hi Lolly, _ _Things at work are going great, thanks for asking. A lot better now I've worked out my work shifts between Jungle and Tardis. Still pretty exhausted, but the money I'm saving now I've moved in with Stiles makes it worth it. _ _I was really surprised that you were all for me moving in with him, I expected you to tell me to go slower, but I'm glad you support my decision. I think it helps that I __really__ like him. We've just had our 'two month' mark this weekend. I don't have a lot of free time, but I've asked Lydia for next Saturday off and I was thinking of driving him out to the beach. His mom took him when he was a kid, and I thought it would be something he'd appreciate. _ _The drawings are amazing, Lolly! Who did you get to sit for you, are these people in your meetings? They are great. I've got one pinned up at work now, but Stiles wants me to get them framed because he thinks they'll be worth a lot of money one day, when you're a world famous artist. _ _He thought the one 'old man' was like some aged superhero or something (his friends are obsessed with superhero films) and I told him about that comic you made me when we were kids, about the werewolf? He almost wet himself he was so excited. He collects comics – so I think you'll get along just fine. _ _There is a spare room here. I told Stiles that you've only got a couple of weeks left of your programme and he's through in there, painting the walls white. He's ordered a new mattress too – because he didn't want you sleeping on something Scott (his best friend) __had sex__ slept on. I kind of agree with that. _ _Isaac and I went to see some indie band that he liked, wasn't my thing, but I thought you might like it. They are called 'Kanima' and sing about __being alternative__ life and being __vegan__ misunderstood. I think Isaac is going to try to convince me to adopt a kitten or something too – if he brings it up in front of Stiles I think we might be getting a cat. I need you to tell him you have an allergy or something. You know cats hate me. _

The thing about writing, was Derek found it so much easier to write that talk. He was able to express himself better when he didn't need to 'talk it out' which was awkward and forced. Luckily, with Stiles, talking didn't seem much of a problem – he talked enough for the both of them.

He was so **_into_** the idea of Laura coming to stay after her retreat. While Derek argued that the room didn't need decorating, Stiles was already online buying a new mattress.

"We'll do the walls white, and then she can like, pin all her art and stuff on it, or just paint directly on the wall or something." He'd enthused. Derek had smiled. It showed a lot that Stiles was more than willing to make room in his life for the things that were important to Derek. The only problem was, the one person in Stiles life that Derek wanted to make room for – his dad – had completely cut himself off from getting to know him.

* * *

Stiles sat on the couch, his knee jumping and jerking with nerves. Derek had left a couple of hours ago to get to the airport to pick his sister up, and Stiles had gotten a text saying they were on their way. Stiles knew a couple of things about Laura, she was a killer artist, she was Derek's older sister who had practically raised him, and she was an alcoholic. That was pretty much it.

He'd already cleaned the apartment from top to bottom, Derek actually stopping him at one point from repainting the entire place to 'freshen it up a bit' – and he was sitting in his best jeans and a brand new plaid shirt as he started panicking over the food in the fridge.

Derek had told him that Laura wasn't a fussy eater, but what if she liked a particular brand of cereal? Did she only drink diet coke, or would Pepsi be okay? Did she not like sweetcorn on her pizza? Stiles just didn't know – and Derek had been no help at all.

He just really wanted Laura to like him.

* * *

"Are you nervous, puppy?"

"Laura, please don't call me that."

"You look nervous!"

"I just want you to like him."

"I'm sure we'll get along just fine." Laura laughed, her long dark curls spilling over her shoulders. She looked good. Great, even. The last time he'd seen her – 6 months ago – she'd been pale and shaking, with a tear streaked face and trembling hands. Today though, she'd bounded through the doors, bouncy and bright, looking better than Derek could ever remember. "So, you'll have to tell me, what is so great about this guy that you decided to move in with him after a week and a half?"

"I don't know."

"Baby puppy, I refuse to believe that."

"Laura, please don't call me that." Derek said, keeping his eyes on the road. "I seriously don't want Stiles to start with that."

"What, he doesn't like nicknames?"

"Laura, he still refuses to call me by my name at work."

"Huh?"

"It's our **_thing_**, apparently." He frowned.

"You have a thing? Oh. My. God." Laura squealed. "You guys have like a cute couple-y thing?"

"Don't encourage him!" Derek groaned. "Please! He's crazy, okay."

"But you _love_ _him_." She sang childishly in the seat beside him.

"Yeah, I do."

The sudden silence beside him was deafening.

"What?"

"You love him."

"What are you talking about?" Derek snapped, pulling up in front of the apartment block.

"I said, you love him, and you said, yeah, I do." She gaped at him. "As in… you **_love_** this guy."

Derek glared at her before killing the engine. "Can you just please be serious and not make a big deal about this, okay? He's nervous enough about meeting you, so just… don't… be…."

"Myself?"

"I was going to say insane and neurotic, but yeah, yourself would work too."

"I don't even know why **_I_** love you."

"You have no choice." Derek smirked, opening the car door. "I'm your baby brother."

* * *

**_Today is Tuesday!_**

**_Pig in a Poke!_**

**_(randomly dies in shower)_**

**_In other news, Hello. _**

**_Today we get to meet the lovely Laura, Stiles is still having trouble with his dad, Danny is fucking adorable and Derek is trying to be a good friend to Isaac…_**

**_And nothing at all about the Drama (capital D) that is going on at Tardis!_**

**_I've bumped this story up to Explicit (on Ao3) after it was pointed out that my smut is rather graphic smut. :s Sorry if that's caused problems for anyone else! Wasn't my intention. _**

**_I've not watched any more Supernatural – is there a way I can just down load the episodes into my brain so I don't have to watch them? I'm *really* not loving Season 6 at all. _**

**_I spent last night playing Theme Hospital - after some serious jiggering about with my PC settings to get such and old game to work – instead, and despite it crashing my computer every hour or so… I still think it's a crazy fun game to play, lol!_**

**_(If anyone had bought the new SimCity, could you let me know if it really is the hot mess it looks like online? Because I loved that game and was really looking forward to playing the new version!)_**

**_There might not be a new chapter tomorrow because it looks like work is about to ramp up seriously, and after that I've got a 4 mile walk for training! So…_**

**_Maybe see you tomorrow! Take Care and have (safe and responsible) fun!_**

- **_Robyn_**


	18. Chapter 18

Derek sat on the couch while Laura made it her life's mission to mortify him.

"Then, when he was like, 6 years old, he was convinced that he was a werewolf." She was saying, as Stiles hung on to her every word. "So I drew him this comic, about a little boy who was a wolf, and he carried it everywhere. I mean everywhere." She laughed. "I think it fell apart one day at school, or he ripped it by accident, and he had to be taken home he was **_hysterical_**."

"I was 6 years old." Derek pointed out, as Stiles snorted back laughter. "I was only a kid."

"Then, when he was like… I dunno, 14 or something, he wanted to get dressed up like-"

"I think that's enough, Lolly!" Derek snapped, ears burning. "Why don't you start putting your things away?"

"I'll help!" Stiles said, bouncing to his feet. "And you can carry on with this possibly blackmail worthy story."

_I hate you_, Derek mouthed to his sister as Stiles dragged her out of the room.

"I love you too, lil' pup." She smiled, green eyes glittering, and Derek couldn't remember the last time he saw her so… clear. Clean. Like he remembered her being when he was a kid.

* * *

Derek had taken the Friday off from Tardis, but he was still expected at Jungle that night, and Stiles would be working his normal shift – which would leave Laura in the apartment alone. Derek wasn't sure how she would cope, because from what she'd told him in her letters, she shared a room when she was at the retreat and didn't spend a lot of time on her own.

He was in the bathroom brushing his teeth and wondering if he should shave or not, when Laura knocked on the door.

"Stiles left." She supplied, watching him.

"He works nights." Derek reminded her, mouth full of minty foam.

"I think you might have hit the jackpot with this one, Puppy. He's funny as hell, cuter than a button and obviously thinks the sun shines outta your ass."

Derek shrugged, glad that he was brushing his teeth so he didn't need to talk to Laura about it. He thought maybe Stiles was into him more than a regular boyfriend, but then… he was never sure about things like that.

"I like him." She smiled, leaning against the door frame. "He's a keeper. Don't fuck up."

Derek spat white foam into the sink and looked at his sister. "I wasn't planning to."

"Good." She grinned. "So, what's this Jungle like?"

"It's just a club."

"A regular club, or like… one of those ones with the glow in the dark paint and everything?"

"I don't want to know what kind of places you've been." Derek said, rolling his eyes. "It's just a club. For people to dance in. Technically, it's a gay bar."

"Drag queens?"

"Some."

"Is that where you met Stiles?"

"No. I met him at Tardis." Derek shrugged. "He flirts on the phone."

"Yeah, he seems the type." She grinned. "What time do you start?"

"In an hour." Derek shrugged. "Will you be okay here?"

"Yeah." Laura grinned. "Stiles raided the art section of Walmart I think, I've got about 20 sketch books."

"Cool, You've got my number, and I think Stiles put his work number down on your 'Welcome Pack'."

"Seriously, puppy, he's the cutest thing I've ever seen."

"Should I be worried you're going to try to steal him?"

Her laughter followed her down the hall as she went to her room.

* * *

Stiles sat on stared at the paperwork on his desk, reaching for his phone.

"Yeah?"

"Jackson, what the fuck is this?"

"What's what?"

"This! I've got about half a rainforest on my desk right now, saying that my end of day reports are late." He could hear Jackson sigh on the other line.

"Stiles, you need to email them up to HR and Finance at the end of every shift."

"I'm so sorry, I think you might have gotten me confused with someone else." Stiles bitched. "Someone who, for the past two months has managed not only to do my own fucking paperwork, but **_yours_** as well!" He glared at the phone, imagining that Jackson could see his epic bitch face. "I think I know what to do here."

"Okay, okay," Jackson admitted. "So what's happened?"

"All my reports are 'missing from the system' or something." He read. "I've got an email here saying that they are required by the end of day or I'll be facing an enquiry as to what I've been doing 'with my allocated hours'." He paused. "Fuck, I'm going to get fired!"

"You aren't going to get fired, for fuck sake, you little queen." Jackson muttered. "I'll be there in an hour."

* * *

Jackson, douche of douches, possible demon in human clothes, so not good enough for Lydia and all round asshole to everyone, sat on the floor in Stiles office and read through the pages and pages of reports.

"Everything is missing." He said. "The E-O-D, the staff commission sheets, line tests… Stiles, it looks like all you've been doing is sitting on your ass and cashing your pay."

"I'm being set up!" He whined, looking at the papers. "I've already got a fucking review booked for tomorrow at 9am! They know I can't get all this work done tonight!"

Jackson nodded, picking up another folder filled with reports. "Do you save copies?"

"On my harddrive." Stiles frowned. "But I've already looked and the folders are empty."

The look Jackson gave him was pointed and slightly insulted. "I don't know exactly what is going on here, Stilinski, but I know when Lydia is up to something, and I know when she's buying disposable cell phones and USB sticks and transferring funds to the fucking Cayman Islands, that she's up to something – and she's never, ever up to anything unless you are involved too."

"I might have made a copy." Stiles said, feeling like he'd just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Did you take it home?"

"No." Stiles said. "It's against company policy to take financial papers home." He paused. "I'd get fired."

"Where do you keep it, then?"

* * *

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Jackson spluttered, looking at the rows and rows of files. "Here?"

"All paperwork is kept here." Stiles argued, trying to keep the mad glee in his voice under wraps. This was his best idea ever. Even Lydia had squealed.

"You are telling me you keep your sabotage worthy paper trail… in the middle of the fucking Droner pit?"

The Droner pit was, in fact, a 'document library' of all calls and paperwork per person. At the end of every day, the sheets that people filled in while taking calls would be gathered up, stapled together and filed. They were never looked at again, but never destroyed _just in case._ In the entire time Stiles had worked for Tardis the pit had just been left to grow. At the end of each row, there was a small key rack, filled with USB sticks that held the end of month back-up reports. Stiles picked up a stick that looked like every other stick and handed it to Jackson. "I didn't know where else to put it."

"You hid a needle in a haystack." Jackson said, looking around at the untouched folders that had been there for years.

"No." Stiles grinned. "I hid a needle in a pile of needles."

"You are a scary son of a bitch."

"Thanks." Stiles grinned.

* * *

Laura picked up the phone without thinking that it wasn't her apartment and she probably should have just let the voicemail pick it up.

"Hello?" She said, leaning off the side of the couch and putting the sketchpad down.

"You Stiles?" A rough voice asked, and she could hear the unmistakeable sound of a bar in the background.

"No, I can take a message though."

"Tell him to come get his old man." The (possible) barman said. "He's passed out drunk."

"Where?" She asked, jotting down the address as he spoke. "I'll be right there." She advised, getting to her feet.

Laura had never been on the opposite side of a call like that, although she knew that Derek had been – more often that he should have.

Her meetings had prepared her for things like social drinking, confronting past mistakes and finally, acceptance, but the guilt that suddenly washed over her was almost crippling.

Derek had mentioned that Stiles relationship with his father had deteriorated since they'd moved in, and that he possibly had an alcohol dependency. She tried to remember all her classes, her groups and meetings as she grabbed Derek's keys – he walked to work – and locked the door behind her with the set of keys that had been in the super cute 'welcome pack' that Stiles had made for her, along with her own new toothbrush, some fluffy white towels, a map of the town and (if Derek didn't put a ring on him, **_she_** would) a list of all the take-out, restaurants, diners and cafés.

Although Derek had already pointed out there were a few AA meetings in town, Stiles was obviously not aware of that, and had – looking seriously awkward – had given her a few flyers and pamphlets for meetings.

They looked well read, and now, on her way to pick up his father, she wondered if he'd picked them up before knowing Derek – if he had shown them to his father.

She drove slowly, not really knowing the town, but the GPS took her almost right to the door of the seedy bar, and when she walked in, all heads turned her way.

"Stilinski?" She asked, nose wrinkling at the smell. Before, when she'd tried so many time to kick the monster that rode on her back, the smell of a bar would had her unthinkingly reaching for her purse, a pavlovian response to the rush and buzz. Now though, after 6 months of fresh air, the stench was disgusting, stale sweat and the bitter twist of beer.

The barman pointed to a figure leaning heavily on the end of the bar, jeans and a grey polo shirt that had seen better days.

"Hey, John." She smiled, sitting beside him. "I'm your ride home."

"Told them to call Stiles." He slurred, looking at her blankly. "Who are you?"

"Laura."

"S'not his girl. Not got a girl. S'gay."

"I noticed." She smiled, the fumes on his breath foul to her. Whiskey, she thought. Cheap whiskey. "Has he paid his tab?" She asked the barman, who simply nodded before going back to wiping down the sticky counter. "Okay, John – I think it's time we left here, huh?"

"Don't go home with strangers." He slurred. "Even pretty ones."

"I'm Laura Hale, and I'm a friend of your sons." She told him. "And you're too drunk to argue right now, so come on."

* * *

Derek found himself worrying as he worked. He trusted his sister, he really did, but it wasn't the first time that he thought she'd managed to stop drinking and had gotten the call to go pick her up somewhere.

"You're frowning at the people who pay your salary." Isaac reminded him with a smile. "Are you okay?"

Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded, and smiled at the guy he was serving – which resulted in a large tip and a telephone number written on the note.

Isaac rolled his eyes and laughed. "Seriously? You get hit on more than I do, and they **_know_** I'm gay."

"I'm gay." Derek frowned, looking at him with a confused expression.

"Yeah, but I'm the one in eyeliner and glitter and you've not even bothered to shave." He laughed, eyes sparkling. "I'm pretty sure they **_hope_** you like boys, though." He smirked.

* * *

Stiles emailed up the files he copied from the USB drive, printed the email, copies of the paperwork and all his previous emails that Boyd had managed to restore so far, but by the time he'd finished it was almost 4 am, and Jackson decided that going back to his apartment would be pointless.

"Look, I'll stay for moral support or something." He said, throwing Stiles a packet of chips he'd picked up on his vending machine raid in the staffroom.

"Jackson get yourself home. There's hours to go yet."

"Nah. Lydia would kill me if I left and something went down."

"Nothing is going to go down." Stiles argued. "I've managed to get all the information that they asked for, and I've got emails proving that I've been sending them up. It's just been a technical hitch and I'll get it sorted out."

Stiles didn't want to think about the money, or the break in, or the fact he was pretty sure that it was all about to come to a rather final conclusion for **_someone_**.

"Still," Jackson shrugged. "You don't scare me half as much as Lydia."

* * *

**_Got a meeting 9. Stayin here._**

Derek read the message as he left work and typed back. **_K. Gtin brkfst w Isaac. R U ok? Not bad?_**

He was waiting for Isaac to grab his coat and lock up behind them when his phone buzzed in his pocket. **_Not bad. Remembr to gt Laura smthg 4 brekfst! _**

* * *

Laura cleaned up the acidic vomit from the bathroom floor of John Stilinski's house, and tried not to think about all the times she's sat on the edge of the bathtub and watched her baby brother do something almost identical. As she cleaned, she talked. She talked about the meetings, and the guilt, and the shame – the feelings of denial and horror… She talked until the sun was shining through the windows in the kitchen and John had drank another cup of coffee and eaten another slice of toast.

She handed him her blue 6 month chip, told him how she'd been so proud of getting it, how holding it in her hand was enough to stop her from reaching for a bottle. She talked about all the times Derek had cleaned her up, wiped her down, how they argued – screaming fights that they never resolved because she didn't remember half of them. The silence. The fear that she was losing the only person she had left…

And she kept talking, when he asked questions, and held the chip in his hands like he could feel the importance of it through his fingertips.

_To thine own self be true_, she told him. And he nodded.

* * *

**_So… Happy Wednesday! _**

**_Have a chapter filled with almost ending!_**

**_I'm working my way towards the final chapter now, as things are about to become resolved. _**

**_I would like to point out, that I know nothing about the AA, and the support that they give members. I am working on information from TV and slight research on my lunch break. The job that these people do is invaluable to those who really need help and are trying to improve their lives, and it is not my intention to cast any kind of slight or insult to these awesome people. They are brave and strong and have helped so many. If you are in anyway offended, it was not my intention, and I apologise. _**

**_I have a four mile walk tonight, so I'd better get going!_**

**_I love you all, and thanks again for the awesome, super feedback and love that you give me. Seriously, it's such a pink-me-up you wouldn't even know. Love you loads!_**

**_-Robyn_**


	19. Chapter 19

"Good Morning Mr Stilinski." James Tardis, the boss of bosses – owner of Tardis and possibly a reanimated corpse of some ancient Egyptian pharaoh – said as Stiles walked through the door.

Unlike the room on the 5th floor where he'd had his interview for the position of Night Supervisor, this review was on the top floor. In fact, it was the first time Stiles had even had to press the button for floor 10 – the penthouse of the building. There were a lot of people in the room. A **_lot_**, all of them seated around the large oval table and looking at him expectantly.

"Good Morning Sir," Stiles managed, looking over his shoulder to Jackson, who was still standing in the hallway. There were men in suits he didn't recognise, but he knew a gun holster under a suit jacket when he saw one, and panicked. "One moment, please," He stammered, walking towards the door and giving Jackson a frantic look. "Call Lydia." He hissed, and then shut the door in Jacksons stunned face.

"If you are **_quite_** done?" Lisa Flower frowned at him, indicating with a wave of her well-manicured hand to the empty seat at the end of the table. "Please, take a seat."

"Thank you." He said, putting the files he'd been carrying on the table as he sat, pleased of the soft chair because his knees were already starting to shake.

"I'm sure you remember me." Fredric Pontjoy, head of human resources said, his massive chins jiggling as he talked. "It was I who approved your promotion."

"I remember, Mr Pontjoy." Stiles nodded. "Thank you."

"Do not thank me." The overweight man scowled. "Because it looks like you have grossly misused your position for personal gain!"

The people around the table didn't look shocked at this, so Stiles had to assume that they had all been informed of the reason for this meeting before he'd arrived. "I don't understand, Sir." Stiles said, shaking his head. "I was advised that this was a review due to an internal computer error that had removed my reports from the system."

"That will be the **_first_** thing that we discuss." Pontjoy glared. "If Miss Fowler could take the floor."

"As you are all aware, the end of day, week and month reports, as well as call logs and commission tables are a **_vital_** part of calculating the profit and loss margins. If we do not receive this information in a timely manner, we in the finance team are left without the correct information to process monthly salaries, personal bonuses and much, much more."

The people around the table, most of whom Stiles had never even seen, nodded seriously. A few faces were only familiar from the framed portraits in the reception hall.

"It is a serious act to withhold this information, or worse – not do your job at all."

"Were you struggling with the workload?" Someone asked, a frail looking woman not much younger than James-possibly-a-zombie-Tardis asked him. She had kind features and watery grey coloured eyes.

"Not at all, ma'am." Stiles said, shaking his head.

"Then, **_please_**," Lisa Fowler spat at him. "Advise us all why you have neglected to do the most basic part of your job!"

"I have here," Stiles said, opening the first folder and inwardly giving himself and Jackson the **_highest_** of fives for the preparation work they'd done, trying to keep his voice free of the nerves that were washing over him. "A copy of all my end of day, week and moth reports, as well as call logs and commission sheets from the day I was promoted."

"This is the result of a full nights preparation work and does not cover the fact that you were either ignorant of the importance of this information or you wilfully kept it from the finance department." Lisa Fowler glared, addressing the people in the chairs rather than him. Around him there was a 'tut' of disapproval, and many hard eyes fixed on him. He swallowed hard.

"I also have here a print off of the emails I sent containing these reports, complete with dates and attached files." Stiles said, passing the printed copies to the person next to him. "I understand that there may have been a technical hitch in the system that perhaps deleted these emails." Stiles said, looking at Lisa Fowler dead in the eyes. "These things happen, sometimes." He added, giving her every opportunity to back down. The man who had been looking over the print outs handed them to the person sitting next to him and nodded.

"Yes, Lisa, it looks like he's right." He said, and Stiles found he'd been holding his breath. The relief he felt washing through his body kick-started his brain, flooding him with adrenaline. He'd been working all night, but he suddenly felt as fresh as a daisy, as though he'd had a good night's sleep.

"I've had some trouble with my emails." Stiles said, "Which I logged with the IT department, and they have been most helpful in recovering many of my files and emails." He said, looking at the people around the table like he'd been taught to do in debate class. "Luckily we have an excellent back-up here at Tardis and last night I managed to retrieve most, if not all, of my lost files. I was very impressed with the high level of ability we have here." He added, and saw the pale eyed older woman smile.

"Oh, yes," She nodded. "I have **_often_** said that my team were under appreciated." Head of IT then, Stiles surmised. Good to know – he filed that away in the back of his mind. He could have a friend in this meeting.

"Let us look over these figures." Lisa said, not looking too happy that Stiles had managed to prove her first point wrong. Whatever she tried to accuse him of next, she'd have a tougher time convincing the people in the room now. He wondered if she saw that. "You will remain in this room." She snapped. "We wouldn't want you stepping out and not returning."

"Of course." Stiles nodded, leaning back in his seat. "In fact, I think having the head of finance look over my paperwork would probably be a good idea." He smiled at the people around him, hoping he looked relaxed and at ease. People responded well to confidence, but badly to arrogance, and he knew he would have to be careful that he didn't come over as a complete dick.

Hopefully Jackson had called Lydia by now, and their night of planning was starting to unfold. Lisa Fowler was probably going to try to hang him for skimming money off the company, and as it stood he had done everything he could to stop that from happening – but he was punching well over his weight and he really, really hoped that Jackson had called Lydia.

* * *

"Do you think it's too soon?" Isaac asked, drinking from the refilled glass. "I mean… you and Stiles went from not knowing each other to **_living_** together in what, a week?"

"Two weeks." Derek said, aware that 7 days difference didn't make it sound any less reckless.

"But you know… I really like him, and we've been dating for like, a month." Isaac carried on. "But… I don't know. It just feels like I'm trying too hard or something." He said, looking down at his empty plate.

They'd been in the diner for hours. What was supposed to be a quick breakfast was about to turn into a long lunch. They'd already probably overstayed their 'free refill' marker by so much that he doubted they'd get back in the door without a hefty bribe.

"I don't think that asking someone to spend the weekend at the beach is too much of a big deal." Derek shrugged. "He doesn't work weekends, and if you don't take your vacation time you'll lose it… so why not ask him?"

"What if he thinks it's too soon?"

"To hang out all weekend? Don't you guys do that anyway?"

"Yeah." Isaac admitted, "But going away isn't the same as hanging out." He pointed out. "I mean, it'd be like a weekend away. Like a couple-y thing."

"You're dating him."

"Yeah… but… what if he thinks I'm insane and trying to be like married or something. Or like 'Misery' or a bunny boiler!" His voice was starting to get higher as he talked, which caused Derek to shake his head.

"Isaac, calm down." He said, firmly. "Ask him. If he says no, smile and go on your own. If he says yes, smile and go with him." He shrugged. "It's not hard."

"But what if…" Isaac groaned, and Derek looked at the clock hanging over the counter. Yup, they might as well order lunch as well now.

* * *

"Hi, My name is Laura, and I'm an alcoholic."

"Hello Laura." The people in the room said, smiling at her.

"I've been sober for 6 months and 3 days." She admitted, "And I've never felt better." There was a smattering of applause as she took a breath. "I'm here today because last night I went to a bar and I spent the night facing a lot of memories and guilt about the way I was before. I saw myself through another's eyes and I… I just really needed some support." She admitted. "My sponsor thought it would be a good idea to come here and discuss it in a safe environment."

As she talked, her eyes flicked over to John. He was sitting in the back row, trying to stay as far away from everyone as possible, but listening intently. She had asked him to come with her, to see what the meetings were like. She wasn't sure if he was even aware that he had a problem, and without knowing – without that burst of self-awareness – the program wouldn't work for him at all.

When she finished talking, feeling better for just having shared her story and eased her mind, she sat beside him in the back row. Another person got up, admitted that they had struggled at a work event to stay away from the alcohol that was freely offered.

"I couldn't think of a way to say no." He admitted. "But I called my sponsor, and he talked me through it."

"Well done." Laura said, amongst the other praise that was offered. She wasn't sure how she would be if someone offered her a drink. People often didn't take 'I don't drink' as an answer, especially if they are buying, or the drinks were free. Her retreat had told her a lot of ways to say no, but she wondered if she'd have the power to go through with them.

"This isn't what I expected." John admitted quietly.

"It wasn't what I expected when I first joined either." She said. "I thought it would be a bunch of smelly homeless drunks crying about how it wasn't their fault."

He didn't say anything, but he nodded.

* * *

Stiles sat in the chair and listened to the conversations that were flying around the room. From what he could make out, the general consensus was that his figures were correct, but there was something wrong the final amount. Which he **_knew_** was the case, because he'd worked it out that the formulas were wrong.

After 2 hours, they worked it out – he was slightly smug about the time it took them – and pointed out the error to James Tardis, who looked at him with almost white eyes.

"Were you aware of this error?" He asked, voice quiet and frail.

"I was, sir." Stiles nodded, reaching for his own paperwork. "I have here a copy of my own working out, as well as a copy of the email that I sent highlighting that I found this issue."

"You let us waste time and you already knew about this issue?" Lisa Fowler snapped, glaring at him.

"I believed that once I gave you this information you would proceed to check my figures and totals – as you should – and thought it would be best to remain quiet until I was assured that the problem was where I had found it." He handed the file over to the man to his left. "As you can see, I found the same error and," He handed over another sheet to him, "Emailed detailing my concerns."

He saw Lisa Fowler nod to the suited men who were still standing at the door. They moved forward, and for a moment, Stiles felt the blood drain from his face as the larger of the two reached inside his jacket – Stiles could almost see him pull the gun, and sagged with relief when he was handed a sheet of paper.

"This is a warrant to search your premises." He said. "Including your vehicle and any outbuildings."

"I live in an apartment block, and my car is in the parking lot." Stiles said, reaching into his pockets for his keys. "If my boyfriend is home, could you please just ask him to call me before he does something stupid?"

* * *

Derek was working his way through yet another refill – the waitress had become a lot friendlier when they'd ordered lunch – while Isaac told him about a new band he was into. People had been in and out of the place all morning, and Derek had stopped paying attention to the bell jingling as the door opened and closed.

"They use the ambient sound of the city and mix it through the fil-"

"hey, baby bro!" Laura's voice cut over Isaac's softer flow of conversation. "I thought you'd have gotten back to the apartment by now!"

Isaac had stopped talking when Laura had cut him off, and was looking up at Laura with a smile that totally didn't fit with the fact that he'd just been cut off mid-sentence. "Isaac, this is my older sister, Laura."

"Less of the 'old' please." She shot back at him, before grabbing Isaac by the jaw and twisting his head left and right. "Oh! Do you model?" She asked, while Derek wanted to climb into a hole at the way she seemed to have idea of personal space, or inappropriate touching.

"Ah, no." Isaac said, blushing so hard the tops of his ears were scarlet.

As Laura enthused over his bone structure and managed, somehow, to get him to sit for her so she could sketch him, Derek looked over her shoulder at the other person who had arrived with her.

Stiles father, looking exhausted and a little shell-shocked stood to one side of his sister. "Sir." He nodded, aware that it was his fault that Stiles and his father were no longer talking.

"Derek."

"Oh," Laura grinned, "I totally forgot you'd know each other. Great!" She laughed. "Shove over, pup, let us have a seat, John, do you want something a little more filling than toast?"

* * *

Scott was sitting on the couch in his living room when he saw people moving around in Stiles apartment. People he didn't recognise.

Without thinking, he picked up his phone and started to dial. The phone rang and rang, but no one picked up. Scott figured that if Stiles had people over, he wouldn't just let the phone ring out – and Derek answered within the first three rings no matter what – so he hung up and dialled another number.

"Hello?" He said, when the voice connected him. "I'd like to report a robbery in progress. Someone is breaking into Stiles Stilinski's apartment." He waited and then frowned. "Yes, John's boy…. Yes, this is Scott… No, it's not a prank call…. Yes, I am aware – look, someone is breaking into his place! Right now!" He cut the voice on the other side off mid-sentence. "If you don't send someone over right now I'm phoning his dad and… Yes, okay." He said, hanging up.

Only an idiot would try to rob John Stilinski's kid.

* * *

Stiles was starting to get a little nervous as the other people in the room were looking at him like he'd murdered a whole school worth of kids.

Lisa Fowler had found, apparently, a few weeks ago, some information that showed beyond a doubt that Stiles Stilinski had stolen millions of dollars and was holding it in an offshore account. The people behind him were police, and the paperwork she had was… incriminating. He was about a hair away from being arrested when there was a brisk knock at the door.

"Good Afternoon," A well-dressed man in a suit said, opening the door. "SSA Green, Agent Clapton and Nicks." He indicated as they stepped into the room, flashing their badges. "FBI."

* * *

"What the hell do you mean, they have a **_warrant_**?" Stiles father was saying, standing in the doorway of the apartment, staring down the police who had already arrived. "I'm the damn sheriff."

He'd gotten a call from Scott that someone was trying to break in, and Derek had told John, and now… well.. now it was just a damn circus. Isaac was there, Scott and Allison, John and Laura – him and two deputies from the department and four police officers from the city who'd been searching the apartment. "Somebody better tell me what the hell is going on right **_now_**." John snapped.

* * *

"Mr Stilinski contacted us four weeks ago regarding a possible fraudulent transition that was being committed in his name." Special Supervisory Agent Green said, now sitting rather comfortably at the head of the table where Stiles had previously been seated. "He believed that he had been the victim of a home invasion and documents had been placed in his care indicating his involvement in a serious crime."

Stiles was standing by the door, throwing up so many prayers that he'd be good for the rest of his life, blessing Jackson, thanking Lydia and praying to God that this wasn't all going to blow up in his face.

"What?" Lisa Fowler snapped. "You contacted the FBI for an internal matter?"

"He was right to do so." SSA Green answered for him. "The money is being laundered through known organised crime syndicates, as well as the combined tax evasion, amount of money, and – more importantly – the home invasion of an employee."

"We knew nothing of this." Lisa Fowler snapped, her cheeks high with colour as she spoke. "This is outrageous!"

* * *

"What the hell do you mean, he's being arrested for fraud!" Derek snapped. "We've been eating frozen pizza's for a week and you think he's embezzling money? Where the hell do you think he's hiding millions of dollars? **_Gringotts_**?"

* * *

"I have here, all the paperwork pertaining to Mr Stilinski's involvement." SSA Green said, opening his folder and handing out copies down the table. "As you can see, there is a large amount being held in an offshore account under his name, which we have – with his permission – seized."

"Wait, what?" Fredric Pontjoy suddenly burst out, face pale. "You can't do that!"

"We have permission from the account holder, Mr S. Stilinski." SSA Green confirmed. "And full co-operation with the bank."

"You can't do that!" Pontjoy said, looking like he wanted to pass out.

Lisa Fowler was watching them all with hard eyes. "Are you saying that **_he_**," She pointed to Stiles, "Informed the FBI that someone in this company was embezzling money in his name, and he didn't skim anything off for himself?"

"We have all the transactions for the account, and we can confirm that Mr Stilinski has been fully co-operative with our investigation."

"You can't do that!" Pontjoy gasped, sweat running down his face.

"Of course they can!" Fowler snapped, before turning to face the FBI agents. "What kind of **_idiot_** would try to pin this on a night shift supervisor?" She mocked. "He can't even get into the locked formulas. Those are written by the financia…" Her voice trailed away, leaving her pale and trembling.

"It was relatively easy to see that Mr Stilinski was being set up." SSA Green agreed. "We saw this as soon as we looked at the shallowness of the plot to incriminate him. Emails deleted, botched home invasion, paper trail leading to the financial executives office… it was all rather childishly done."

* * *

"Of course there isn't anything here!" Derek snapped. "I don't know what you're looking for! Stiles isn't stealing money!"

"I want to talk to your Captain." John said, voice flat and emotionless. "**_Now_**."

* * *

"You think I did this?" Fowlers voice was strong despite her trembling hands.

"I think we were supposed to think you did this." Agent Green said, smiling. "However, we at the FBI have a reputation for tenacity as well as bureaucracy."

"We looked at the amount of money and worked backwards." Agent Nicks cut in. "There was a much higher amount in the account than Mr Stilinski would have been able to collect in the short time he had been promoted, and we believed that the real time frame to achieve this would have taken at least a year."

"I've only been here 9 months!"

"These formulas have not been edited recently." Agent Nicks agreed. "In fact, they have not been changed since this system was implemented."

"And we believe that the head of finance at that point was Mr Pontjoy, was it not?"

* * *

It was all over so quickly that Stiles wasn't really convinced that he wasn't getting fired. He wasn't sure if he was still employed, or if he was even allowed to go home, so he was still standing by the door when people were filing out.

Fredric Pontjoy did the thing.

He had been escorted out of the building (without handcuffs, which was a bit of a let-down) and there had been more questions, and Stiles had to go through everything he'd done, but in the end… it was all over fairly quickly.

Stiles didn't really know what to think. He thought… well, he'd thought it was Lisa Fowler for a start, because she was a bit of a bitch and no one liked her, but it turned out that being a bitch doesn't mean you're a bad person, or a thief, and she was just as set up as he'd been.

"You'll need to give a statement," SSA Green told him as people walked out of the room. "As we discussed over the telephone, and give evidence when this goes to trial."

"Sure." Stiles nodded blankly. "So that's it?" He asked. "I get to go home?"

"Of course. Congratulations, Mr Stilinski, I believed you just saved your company a great deal of money and your own ass at the same time." He nodded then, and left.

Stiles stood in the room and sighed. His paperwork, pointless now, he thought, was strewn all over the table, and he walked around, picking it up and straightening the chairs around the large oval table. He picked up the water jug and glasses, carrying them over to the unit to the side and looked around for anything else that he need to tidy away.

"Mr Stilinski, you are still here?" A frail, shaky voice asked, causing Stiles to nearly fall over with shock. Mr James-probably-around-at-the-time-of-Merlin-Tardis, Boss of Bosses and owner of… well… Tardis, looked at him from the other side of the room. Stiles probably walked right past him and didn't even notice. Maybe he was a ninja when he wasn't a zombie.

"I was just cleaning up." He shrugged before remember who he was talking to. "Sir."

"I was quite impressed with you today." The old man said in his dry voice.

"Thank you, sir." Stiles mumbled, nor sure what to say to that. Compliments were awesome from your boyfriend, not so much your boss. Of your bosses boss. Or, technically, your bosses, **_bosses_** boss. Or something.

"If you have time, I would like to discuss a few things about your continued employment here." He said.

Stiles thought about the last time he was in his bed – too long ago – or the last time he'd eaten something – holy fuck! Far too long ago – but found himself nodding. "Um, sure."

* * *

Derek was sitting on the couch between Isaac and Scott, while John and Laura made dinner, and Stiles was nowhere to be found.

"Fraud?"

"He's not been arrested." Scott was saying, "Because his dad would totally know."

"He's been in trouble and he didn't even tell me." Derek frowned.

"Maybe he didn't know?"

"How could he not know?" Derek said, looking at Isaac with a frown. "He's **_Stiles_**."

"Good point." Scott agreed.

* * *

Stiles sat in the large corner office that belonged to James Tardis and blinked. Then he blinked again.

"I understand if you would rather continue with your more… steady pace… through the ranks." James Tardis was saying to him, cigar in his hand (should almost possibly already dead people smoke?) and a heavy layer of thick smoke around his head. "This is, of course, a once in a career opportunity." Meaning he wasn't going to ask twice, Stiles knew. Fucking Hell, he probably should have asked once!

"When would this position become available?"

"Once this whole thing blows over." James Tardis, owner of Tardis, and his Bosses Boss, said, pale eyes watching him through the smoke clouds. "You could use the time to familiarise yourself with the roll."

Stiles nodded, he wasn't a complete moron and this… well… this was something unheard of. "I think that would be best. Thank you." He agreed.

"You have saved me and my company a great deal of money, there is no need to thank me." Mr Tardis said, leaning his thin, old body back into rich leather. "A sudden promotion is the **_least_** you should expect."

* * *

**_Happy Thursday!_**

**_4k of plot and stuff!_**

**_Tomorrow I am going to see 'Rocky Horror' at the Playhouse, so I doubt I'll get another chapter out tomorrow, so I tried to give you more than normal! I'll probably break my own 'No Writing On Weekends' rule and get another one out so I can start on something new on Monday. _**

**_So…_**

**_One more chapter and we're done._**

**_I've not got a clue about what I want to write next, so… we'll see. I'd like to write more Supernatural, but I don't want to leave my TeenWolf because I loves it so!_**

**_I hope you liked this chapter, because I had a kind of clear idea of what was going to happen, and so many people were almost guessing who the bad guy was but not quite (Come on, you totally all thought it was Fowler, admit it!) _**

**_And once again, I am writing from a place of no experience or knowledge with the AA stuff and if you feel like I've not been as respectful of the seriousness of Alcoholism, please let me know, because I really don't mean to offend anyone. _**

**_So….Love you lots like jelly tots and if you want to say Hi, please do._**

**_-Robyn_**


	20. Chapter 20

Stiles got home well after 8pm. He'd called home and found that his apartment had been overrun with friends and family.

"I'll explain everything when I get back, okay?" He told Derek, who sounded so seriously pissed that Stiles thought perhaps going home would be a bad idea. "Mr Tardis wants to take me out for a business lunch, for fuck sake Derek – he's my boss, it's not like I can say no!"

"I've got to go to work at 7, if you remember?"

"Yeah, look, I've got to go, okay; try to get some sleep or something before your shift." He said, and hung up before Derek could say anything.

Now though, as he walked through the door he wondered just how badly he was in the dog house.

He'd been awake for over 24 hours though – and he was exhausted. The business lunch had become a business meeting, and Stiles met the same people who had thought, only a few hours ago, that he was trying to swindle the company out of a small fortune.

He shook hands and ate steak and tried not to choke on cigar smoke and felt seriously out of place in his white shirt and no tie, sitting with the 'good ol boys' in their designer suits.

"Anyone here?" He asked, as he locked the door behind him. There was no answer.

There was a note stuck to the fridge.

**_Gone to Jungle. Laura & Your dad are BFFS. Derek is totes pissed u! B wrnd! – S._**

* * *

Derek spent the entire night trying not to kill people. Both him and Isaac had about 2 hours sleep between them because of all the drama, and neither were on their A game as they slogged through another long night of loud music and complicated drink orders.

"I'm going to kill him." Derek said to Isaac, not for the first time. "I'm going to rip his throat out with my teeth."

Isaac just nodded sleepily, and Derek felt like shit that he'd stayed at the apartment while they waited for Stiles to get home. "I'm going to kill him." He repeated.

* * *

Stiles was stretched out on the bed, fully clothed with sweat rings on his white shirt and stinking of cigar smoke when Derek got home. Laura was already in her room, curled up under the covers and sleeping, so her closed her room door and lay on the top of the bed beside Stiles. He was too tired to wake him. Probably would be a much better idea to yell at him in the morning.

* * *

Stiles woke up first, snuggled into Derek's side. He was going to be in so much shit when he woke up, but right now, they were curled up together and Stiles really didn't want to move.

He could hear Laura in the shower, the clanging of the pipes and wondered about the 'bonuses' that James Tardis had mentioned. Would Derek be more pissed? Would it cause a rift in their relationship if Stiles was earning a whole hell of a lot more than he was? Would he just leave?

"You look like you're about to cry." Derek grumbled, rolling over and facing away from him.

"Are you going to break up with me?" He asked Derek's back, hating that he sounded like he was about to burst into tears.

"No." Derek said, but he didn't turn around.

"Okay."

"What the hell happened?"

"Um, you know Fred Pontjoy?"

"Yeah." Derek shrugged, unmoving. "He interviewed me."

"Well he kind of tried to set me up." Stiles said, "And I went to Lydia for help, and we called the FBI, and they told us not to tell anyone." He said. "And I totally thought it was that Lisa Fowler, because she's a bitch, and Allison hates her, but it was Pontjoy."

"You should have told me."

"I know, but… I don't **_know_**, I kind of didn't think it would be such a big deal, but… then everything kind of went off all at once."

"Scott called the cops because he thought you were being robbed, and I get here and there's police and a warrant and you're getting **_arrested_**."

"I didn't get arrested."

"I can see that."

"I got promoted." He added. "Um… by quite a bit."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I um… kind of a junior partner." He managed, not quite believing the words that were coming out of his mouth. "Um… I've got a couple of months before I start."

Derek turned then, the mattress shifting under his weight and causing Stiles to slide closer to him, "You're a junior partner?" He asked, looking confused. "I thought you were getting arrested."

"Um… well… the FBI were there, and then James Tardis was all… 'come into my lair and discuss your future' and seriously, dude is about a million years old, right? And he starts talking about how he thinks it's wonderful that I've got a **_boyfriend_**, and it turns out he's an old queen and he thinks the company needs new blood and… fuck, Derek, I'm in so deep over my head I don't know what's going on."

"You should have told me. Or your dad! Or someone." Derek frowned. "We were worried."

"I'm really sorry." Stiles said, looking intently at Derek's ear because he couldn't make eye contact without feeling even more like shit. "I just… I didn't think, really. You're so new, and I was worried that you might freak out because no one wants a boyfriend who's getting set up for a fall, and seriously, you'd only just moved in with me and I didn't want to fuck everything up with going on about the FBI and how I'm totally innocent, honestly, and not have you beli-"

He was cut off mid word by Derek covering his mouth with a sticky hand. That smelt like bourbon. He wrinkled his nose. "I didn't have a shower." Derek shrugged. "I got about 2 hours sleep."

"So… morning sex is out?"

"Stiles, you're lucky I'm not kicking your ass."

* * *

"So you've got a couple of months to learn the ropes and… what? You're a partner?"

"Yeah." Stiles nodded, scooping up more mashed potatoes. His dad was sitting at the kitchen table, a glass of milk in front of him and dark shadows under his eyes. He looked sallow and ill. Stiles was really worried, but Laura, who was listening intently opposite him, didn't seem concerned. Stiles figured she'd know, which went some way to soothing his mind.

"What kind of thing will you be doing?"

"I've honestly got no idea." Stiles admitted. "I don't know what the higher ups actually do, aside from make life hell for everyone below them."

"True." Derek nodded, before going back to his grilled chicken. Stiles wasn't sure what had happened between Derek and his dad, but they seemed to be getting along better than they had been, although it looked like Laura was the reason. She had gone ahead of them to help with dinner and take his dad to **_another_** AA meeting.

Stiles totally didn't cry in the shower over **_that_** when she left. Derek, the fucking legend that he was, pretended not to notice his blotchy face when he got dressed.

* * *

Moths passed, quicker than Stiles expected. One moment he was sitting in a room giving his testimony and the next he was carrying his stuff up to the 8th floor where he had the corner office and his own parking space.

And his job consisted of shaking hands and a lot less work than he expected.

* * *

Stiles stood at the dais beside Scott, who was bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet.

"Calm down, dude." He told his best friend, "She's not late, she's here."

"What's taking so long?"

"She's a girl." Stiles pointed out. "They've got like, layers of clothes to sort out, and probably hair needs touching up or something, you know what it's like."

"She'll look amazing no matter what."

"Yeah, that's super adorable, but she's more worried about the photogr-" He was cut off by the start of the wedding march, and the terrified squeak of the groom. "Jesus, Scott." He grinned. "You look like you're about to be shot."

Heads turned as the door opened, and there, with Erica and Lydia behind her – Allison walked down the aisle on the arm of her father, looking like a damn dream.

"Holy shit." Scott breathed, and Stiles could only agree.

* * *

"I want it." Stiles said, when the realtor left them to 'talk it over' with each other.

"It's massive," Derek said, looking around. "Too big for just us."

"Well…." Stiles shrugged. "It's not like we have to have it be **_just_** us."

* * *

"Isaac, I honestly don't care. If you bring that puppy in here and the kids see it, I'm going to feed your son red bull and skittles." Derek growled. "And don't even think of telling Stiles."

"But she's the last one, Derek." Isaac whined down the phone. "And you know Danny and I would take her, but with Pepper getting on a bit, and the cats... and now with Tomas getting to that stage where he's crawling about... Derek..."

"No." Derek snapped. "I'm already living in a fucking menagerie because of you."

"Derek, she's the last puppy." Isaac's voice took on the wheedling tone that the twins were somehow magically picking up now they were able to talk in full sentences and 'Uncle Isaac said' was getting to be a much over-used argument. He saw Stiles wander into the kitchen in his suit (damn, he still looked good even though he now had that little bit of softness around the edges.

"I don't care, Isaac. No."

"Don't care about what?" Stiles asked, and right then, Derek just knew they'd be getting another dog.

Which meant that they'd have two kids, four cats, two rats, a chipmunk and three dogs. Thank God he worked from home.

* * *

The local newspaper did a full two page spread when James Tardis died. It talked about his life, his business, his dedication to making Beacon Hills one of the prime locations for new developers, how his innovation created hundreds of jobs locally. It talked about how the new CEO of the company, a Mr Stilinski with over 15 years knowledge of the workings of Tardis was planning on expanding and building upon the dream that James Tardis had.

Derek read it sitting in his office, James and John fighting in the hallway about how Spiderman wasn't a 'real' Avenger because he wasn't in the movie – and any moment he just knew he'd be pulling them apart because they always ended up swinging punches and John liked to bite.

But even with two kids, five cats, one rat, a diabetic chipmunk and three and a half (the Papillon called Poppet didn't fucking count as a whole one) dogs, Derek was good.

Who said there was no such things as happy endings?

* * *

**_The End!_**

**_Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed and liked and sent me messages and... well... just thanks._**

**_You all rock, and if I didn't have such great people keeping me going, I'd not write half as much. Your support means everything to me, picks me up when I feel like crap and keeps me going when I feel like giving up._**

**_So 'Thank You' doesn't really seem to cover it, but Thank You anyway._**

**_I have no idea what I want to write next._**

**_I'm doing a one-shot GamerAU Destiel/Sabriel for Supernatural atm, but... it's a one shot not a proper full story._**

**_Let me know what you want to see Sterek wise. Feed me ideas. I might take some and mix them up and add parts and take away parts... but feeeeeeed meeeeee prompts. Go!_**

**_-Robyn_**


End file.
